


To Be a Hero

by Leviosally468



Category: The Legend of Zelda & Related Fandoms, The Legend of Zelda: Skyward Sword
Genre: Anal Sex, Angst and Feels, Angst and Fluff and Smut, Banter, Canon-Typical Violence, Coming Out, Consensual Sex, During Canon, Enemies to Lovers, Furious - Freeform, Ghiralink - Freeform, Link (Legend of Zelda) Needs a Hug, M/M, Missing Scene, Outraged, Post-Skyward Sword, Shameless Smut, Sick with anger, Slow Burn, Soft Ghirahim, canon but not, full of rainbows, link and zelda are friends, link comes out, living for these two
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-03-27
Updated: 2020-04-03
Packaged: 2021-03-01 00:21:19
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 19
Words: 54,561
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23336047
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Leviosally468/pseuds/Leviosally468
Summary: This epic follows in-game play with some nifty twists, various POV and post S.S. after-story. Link hates that he can't stop thinking about his arch-nemesis, what does it mean? Ghirahim never expected to feel this way; can The Goddess' chosen hero change the course of the future for a defeated demon?
Relationships: Ghirahim/Link (Legend of Zelda)
Comments: 4
Kudos: 59





	1. The Beginning

**Author's Note:**

> My thanks to Nintendo for the creation of the Zelda game series and characters, I claim rights to neither. This story has obviously been a bit late in coming, but better late than never ;). You can thank COVID-19 for granting me the time and headspace to make it through a 3rd playing of Skyward Sword, and the ability to finally put all of these ideas to the written page.  
> Warnings for smut in chapter notes.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The best relationships come out of friendships....or...something like that...this fic is mixed POV between Ghirahim and Link, I hope that comes across okay.
> 
> Song suggestion: "Evening On the Ground" by Iron and Wine

Prologue  
  
_The Demon Lord Ghirahim narrowed his tilted eyes as he gazed down from his hide within the branches of The Great Tree. He watched with interest as the green-clad young man crouched behind a tall boulder and slowly raised a hand toward the hilt of his sword. The shrub beyond the boulder gave a squeak and a nervous quiver. Ghirahim snorted distastefully…from whatever crack-filled pipe dream The Goddess had dredged the idea for Kikwi from he couldn’t quite fathom. He turned his attentions back to the young Skyloftian Hero, who was now tip-toeing slowly toward the trembling bush, his sword held aloft. Ghirahim rolled his eyes; the boy was going to need to dig deeper than this if he was ever to make an attempt at fulfilling the task of his precious goddess; ‘attempt’ being the operative word, Ghirahim thought wickedly. Still, there was something rather likeable about the man-child. Ghirahim had been watching him for the past couple of days now, and while the idea of spilling every last drop of his blood was indeed a pleasant vision, The Demon surprised himself with the thought of what an equal shame it would be…He cocked his head to the side, surveying the boy’s rather impressive figure as he rapped the flat of his blade smartly upon the pitiful little creatures leafy backside. It gave a squeal that almost made Ghirahim stuff his fingers in his ears. Presently, the young hero sheathed his sword and turned from the Kikwi, jogging instead back in the direction that Ghirahim stood. Even though he knew the boy couldn’t see him and that he was unlikely to look up, he retreated further into the branches…and nearly fell out of the tree altogether as the savior of the world skidded to a halt and began …netting butterflies. Interesting…It might mean nothing…it might mean something. The Demon weighed what he knew so far about the little fallen nestling. Ghirahim's preferences were no great secret; for neither as a human nor a sword had he fixed any woman with the lustful thirst that painted his flawless features currently. The Goddess girl-child couldn’t possibly be a love interest, or the idiot boy wouldn’t be wasting his time catching butterflies over saving her. Only time would tell, The Demon thought to himself…his smile deepened as several butterflies alighted on the boys shoulders and he giggled. He was looking forward to making his formal introduction with The Goddess’ Chosen Hero._

  
***

With a groan Link shoved hard upon the thick, stone doors before him. They creaked heavily, dust billowing from between cracks and crevices that had gone undisturbed for many years. Link drew breath slowly and intentionally as he moved forward into the room without making a sound. His blood pounded in his ears as he walked on soft-booted feet. He found himself in a cavernous room with high arched ceilings bound in gold; magnificent tapestries adorning the chipped and faded walls. A soft haze illuminated the room giving it an eerie glow. Despite its jaw-dropping splendor, the room held a feeling of great age; it felt older than time itself, yet possessed something of an eternal quality at the same time. Link filed these thoughts away as he steeled himself for whatever awaited him here. This temple wasn’t going to let him out without a fight, of that he was certain. He squinted deep aquamarine eyes in the lowlight. There was a door ahead, the symbol of The Goddess etched in the ancient stone. Surely Zelda lay beyond it, Link swallowed in spite of himself. Surely she was still alive.  
Suddenly, a blinding white light flashed before him and he stumbled back from its brilliance. At the same moment, torches blazed around the circular room and a feeling of dread settled about Link's shoulders as he put a hand up to his eyes. A figure materialized where the bright light was now fading. At the moment its back was to Link and he was unable to make out its face or if it was even indeed human. It was clad in tight white breeches and matching soft white boots that blended seamlessly at strong, muscular calves. A billowing, blood-red cape was draped about its narrow yet strapping shoulders, and a short-cropped length of silken pearl-white hair hung over the left side of its head. Link's eyes widened and his hand began to drift toward his blade as the gloved hand of this figure suddenly raised a weapon of its own. It continued to gaze hungrily toward the closed door, raising a jet black saber high above its head when suddenly it paused, its energy shifting from the door. Without turning, it spoke;  
  
“Well look who it is…”  
  
The black saber vanished in a burst of black diamonds from the being's hand as it turned to face Link, its silken hair swinging as though caught perpetually in a light breeze. The skin of its face, although different in texture, was similar in color to its hair; it emanated a flawless, pearlescent brilliance that would have been quite lovely save for its eyes. They were cat-like and sharp, the pupils coal-black with a penetrating malice, and lidded in hues of a deep, poisonous purple. Its mouth was full and slightly pouted; its ears were, however, familiar…they came to a soft point in much the same way that Links own did. Could this being, however demonic it appeared, be of a similar race? It spoke again;  
  
“I thought that tornado I sent would have tossed and torn you apart, yet here you are. _Not_ in pieces.” Link’s brow furrowed in anger…so this was the cause for Zelda’s fall to the surface…“Not that your death has any consequence. It’s just the girl that matters now, and I can sense her here…just beyond this door.” It tossed its head arrogantly to stare back at the door. The mans voice, as Link had decided, was high, cold and harsh and positively dripping with a malicious boredom; as though he had been caught in the middle of an important task and Link may as well have been a fly on the wall for all the effort he was putting into the conversation. But something else caught Link's attention; the man said Zelda was here…just beyond the door…he listened closely as the man continued to speak;  
  
“Yes, we plucked her majesty from her perch in the clouds. And now, she is ours. Oh, but listen to me, I am being _positively_ uncivil. Allow me to introduce myself; I am the Demon Lord who presides over this land you look down upon, this world you call the surface. You may call me Ghirahim.” So, this being who claimed he was a lord had a name. Link was suddenly struck with a white-hot surge of anger. He longed to punish this “lord” in the worst way possible. This man wanted to hurt Zelda and Link wanted to make him pay. “…in _truth_ ,” he continued pompously, “I very much prefer to be indulged with my full title: _Lord_ Ghirahim, but I’m not fussy.” This was getting to be too much. Link had already sensed there would be no talking this man who thought himself a lord down to his senses. He gripped the hilt of the Goddess Sword tightly and drew. It slid easily from its sheath with a metallic reverberance that seemed to fill the whole room. Link could feel its strength seep into his arms, filling him with warmth and light. He thought fleetingly of plunging it to the hilt into this creature’s back, as it still stood gazing longingly at the sealed door. Link had a sneaking suspicion he couldn’t open it…he spoke again;  
  
“Did you just draw your sword?” He mocked, “Foolish boy.” He turned once again to face Link, his demonic eyes flashing. Despite the similar feeling of agelessness that surrounded this seemingly human being, Link could see plainly the man could not be more than a few short years his senior if he took into account his looks alone. Link supposed he might even be regarded as ‘handsome’ by some; yet he addressed him as ‘boy’ as though he were nothing but a child caught with his hand in the cookie jar. The demon known as Ghirahim spread his impressive arms and went on;  
  
“By all rights the girl should have fallen into our hands already. She was nearly ours when that loathsome servant of the Goddess snatched her away.” Ghirahim's beautiful face contorted menacingly as he clutched at his temples,  
“Do you have any idea how that made me feel inside?” His voice was low and guttural now as he writhed like an angry serpent. Links insides burned as his own anger grew. “Furious! Outraged! Sick with anger!”  
To Links astonishment, just as the Demon Lord coiled himself to strike, his body disappeared in a burst of black diamonds. Though Link could no longer see his physical body, he could feel his dark presence moving about the room. It was a bloodthirsty and hateful presence, like the feeling one gets in a dark wood when one feels one is being watched by a stalking animal. Link whirled about with his sword in hand, eyes sharpened for any sign of movement as a disembodied voice seemed to echo about the chamber.  
“This turn of events has left me with a strong appetite for bloodshed.” The high, cold voice chuckled lightly from somewhere to his left.  
“Still…it hardly seems fair, being of my position, to take all of my anger out on you, which is why I promise up front not to murder you.” Links breath caught in his throat as he felt a pair of strong, serpentine arms wend their way through his own, trapping his sword arm to his side. His stomach plummeted as Ghirahim leaned in close to his ear, breathing him in. Why was he stalling? What was he waiting for? Link shuddered, If he’s not going to kill me, what is he playing at? He gulped as a trickle of cold sweat beaded on his brow. Ghirahim opened his mouth and a long, slithering tongue caught the trickle of sweat as is crept down the side of Links face. Link shivered in spite of himself as a fresh hot surge of anger boiled within him and he struggled against the ropey, muscular arms that held him fast. Was this creature at all human? Link no longer cared to find out, he was ready to fight and be done with it.  
Ghirahim pulled him back in, this time against the opposite cheek and growled huskily in his ear; “I’ll just beat you within an inch of your life!” At this he pushed Link hard away, sending him reeling forward. He caught himself before he fell and turned quickly to face Ghirahim.  
  
The demon chuckled as he looked the boy up and down; He wasn’t really a boy at that…hard muscle stood out under the rough fabric of his breeches and under his tunic which was well-cut even if the material was poor. His face was still round and innocent, and those eyes…like deep pools of water. Though he was hard and unforgiving, The Demon Lord did have a weakness for pretty things. ‘I will break him’, he thought with a malicious grin. He was tired of the interference of this overgrown gadfly in his peasant clothing, sporting the relics of the ancient Goddess-whore. He was tired of always being the one to deal with the foolhardy girl and her protector. Yet, something held him back…he could have flayed the boy open in a matter of seconds many times over in the past several minutes, but he continued to toy with him…All in good time, he thought wickedly. If there was one thing he prided himself in, it was patience. A despicable smile split his face from ear to ear. The boy should be lucky to escape with a stiff warning from Lord Ghirahim.  
  
In a shower of diamonds the demon lord vanished again and Link turned about quickly, knowing full-well he would re-appear close and he wasn’t giving Ghirahim any excuse to gain the upper-hand this time. At a chuckle behind him, he whirled, sword glinting ethereally to find Ghirahim stalking slowly toward him. He snapped his fingers and the heavy, red velvet mantle vanished from around his shoulders. He chuckled lightly,  
“You know Sky-child, I have given you my name but I don’t remember you giving me yours. Even enemies can still have manners.” Link balanced on the balls of his feet as he had been taught, ready to dodge whatever Ghirahim threw his way. The Demon Lord was not currently wielding a sword, a detail that had not escaped Link, but this did not comfort him. Anyone who possessed the ability to disappear and reappear at will was not to be trusted. As this thought occurred to Link, Ghirahim snapped his long, gloved fingers again and several long, jet-black daggers appeared out of thin air before him, hovering in a straight line.  
“Perhaps you didn’t hear me boy? What is your name?” Link glared, baring his teeth in a snarl. Ghirahim pointed with his finger and the daggers hurtled towards Link. He slashed horizontally, deflecting them away.  
“Tut, tut, Sky-child, you disappoint me…nevertheless, I’m prepared to give you a little lesson in humility. You’ve caught me on a good day I suppose…” Ghirahim licked his lips malevolently. Link couldn’t stand it anymore, he lunged at Ghirahim and slashed to his right. Ghirahim leaped backward but not soon enough. The Goddess sword swung true, catching him in the side. Link pivoted quickly back around to see Ghirahim clutching his ribs as his own red blood bloomed over his skin tight white tunic. Links eyes widened slightly in surprise, both at landing his blow and the fact that Ghirahim even possessed blood. If he possessed blood, he had to be somewhat human, therefore he could be defeated. With that comforting thought, Link steeled himself once more and raised his blade.  
  
Ghirahim stumbled as he felt the wretched Goddess’ blade tag his side. He clasped his hands over the gash as blood seeped from under his palms. Right through his new tunic, damn him…the cut wasn’t deep thankfully, but it made his blood boil. His breath came in fast, strained gasps as he raised his head slowly.  
“Your manners are certainly _dreadful_ …” he growled, fighting to keep his voice calm and even. “You shall pay for this boy.” Even so, Lord Ghirahim had to admire the boy’s courage, which was not something he often admired as he didn’t really hold with such idealistic nonsense. The emotion surprised him. He felt a pang of shame and immediately hated himself for it. He glowered and a grin returned to his lips. He stalked toward the boy again and snapped his fingers, summoning more daggers.  
“I will not ask you again. _Tell. Me. Your. NAME_.” At this, Ghirahim sent the daggers soaring toward the boy, who ducked flat to the ground just in time to stop them from taking off his head. It was perfect. In a flash of diamonds Ghirahim was upon his back with his sword arm pinned behind him, and his own jet-black saber at his throat. He leaned his face close to this servant of The Goddess.  
“Here’s your first lesson, child…” the boy struggled magnificently as Ghirahim rammed his knee harder into his back, further twisting his sword-arm and driving the saber into the skin of his beautiful neck. A small trickle of blood streamed from where the sharp edge was pressing against the boys skin. Suddenly the blade vanished and with his free hand Ghirahim cupped the boys chin. He bent his head low, breathing in his scent, and licked the small bead of blood that trickled down his neck with his long, slithering tongue. Link flinched and writhed.  
“You have reduced me to this boy.” Ghirahim hissed in his ear. “I’ll make you a little deal. Tell me your name, and I don’t cut off your head.”  
  
Link struggled fruitlessly as Ghirahim drove his knee into his back and his blade into his throat. Link humbly admitted to himself a battle of strength seemed futile as both men were equally matched. _‘But why,_ ’….a small voice wriggled its way into Links conscious… _'Why hasn’t he killed me?’_ He screwed up his courage; What the hell did that matter at this point? Maybe it gave him an edge, if he could just...Abruptly, the saber was gone and Ghirahim’s long, snake-like tongue was at his neck. Link shivered in spite of himself and was surprised to find the feeling had nothing to do with fear. He gasped aloud as goose-bumps sprang up on his skin. Damn your pride. Just tell him your _damned_ name and get on with it. Zelda…think of Zelda… He squeezed his eyes shut. His breath was shallow and labored as Ghirahim continued to crane his head painfully upwards. He hissed almost gently in Links ear sending an electric wave down his spine. He demanded again for his name.  
  
“My name…” he spluttered, “My name is…Link. It’s Link” He gasped as he felt the weight of Ghirahim’s body leave him. His face collapsed towards the floor tiles as he struggled to suck in air. A high, cold laugh filled the chamber.  
  
“Link?!” the voice scoffed, “ _Link?!_ The Goddess’ chosen hero, the one to save the world from _utter_ destruction…is named LINK?!” Ghirahim continued to laugh, hovering at the end of the chamber by the sealed door. Link pushed himself to standing and readied his sword. He was angry with himself for the way he had reacted. What had happened? He felt humiliated for sure, although he wasn’t about to let Ghirahim know that. But, some other unfamiliar emotion was bubbling just beneath the surface of his conscious mind as he remembered how Ghirahim's touch had made him feel. Vulnerable? He mentally berated himself; this demon had a hand in harming Zelda. Was he really willing to gamble her sacrifice for a fucking _feeling?_ He pushed the thoughts aside. He had to focus; now was the time to strike. Ghirahim had stopped laughing and was walking toward him again with a coy smile on his face.  
“How do you feel now, Link?” He emphasized the name with a lick of his lips. Links face curled in a snarl as he lunged forward slicing at Ghirahim. As he brought his sword down, he felt it contact something…he opened his eyes, and found the tip of his sword caught between two of The demon’s outstretched fingers. Links eyes widened and he gasped aloud. Ghirahim merely chuckled:  
“You’re going to have to try harder than that Sky-child _Link_ , if you are to try and stop me.” Just as Link struggled to free his blade, the demon lord released it, hopping backward and drawing his own sword. “You have courage it’s true, boy, but you are no match for Lord Ghirahim.”  


Ghirahim smiled inwardly. The boy called Link was definitely unsettled now. He had to admit, tormenting the poor, innocent thing was indeed fun…the boy even seemed to _enjoy_ it…how interesting, and quite unexpected really. He did love games. Something still nagged at the Demon Lord’s senses. He should crush this pathetic fool to dust, or else send him running back to his Sky-home with his tail set firmly between his rather distinguished legs already. Ghirahim mentally shook himself. No matter, he would soon make him weep for mercy. With a fresh wave of anger at himself for drawing the process out, he lunged forward, meeting Link with a crash of steel. There was sweat on the boy’s brow as he grunted with the effort of driving Ghirahim’s blade back. His smile deepened. He sidestepped throwing Link off balance and causing him to stumble. Ghirahim swept towards him again but this time Link pivoted to the side, slashing at Ghirahim from behind and forcing him to roll forward. “I’ll admit you have some skill boy, but now you’ve made me dirty my boots.” In a flash of diamonds he reappeared behind Link, catching his sword arm high and strapping his other arm down to his side with his own. He shoved Link backward into a nearby pillar, slamming his wrist into the cold, hard stone and causing the Goddess Sword to crash to the floor. He could feel the boy drawing breath, deep and strained. “I’m not without mercy,” He panted once more into Links ear. There is another way out of this for you. Pledge yourself to me.” He kissed Link's cheek.  


Link knew that he was more than a match for Ghirahim with a sword but he possessed none of his magic powers, and it nagged at him. But, even as a magical being he had not killed Link. He was waiting for something, or he was afraid of something. Either way, this meeting needed to end. Link grunted and squirmed as Ghirahim whispered in his ear, asking for his allegiance? Tingles shot back up Links spine again as Ghirahim's lips brushed his face. How could this be happening? What exactly did Ghirahim want with him? He was tempted to ask him so when he wriggled free of the arm binding his left side, wrestling with Ghirahim until the Demon Lord re-captured both of his wrists and pinned them high to the pillar. With his free hand he conjured a single dagger and placed the point of it to Links tunic sleeves. Even thought the blade pierced neither fabric nor his mail, it held his wrists fast as he writhed to free himself. Ghirahim laughed viciously.  
  
“I’ll never join you!!” Link spat. “I pledge myself to the light, and I will hold my oath even if it means my death!” His face set, he glared defiantly back at the Demon Lord.  
  
“Just look at the Goddess’ hero now.” Ghirahim said calmly, pacing back and forth in front of Link. The bored tone in his high voice penetrated Links very soul. “You put up more of a fight than I would have thought possible out of such a soft boy.” Ghirahim paused directly in front of Link, his hands clasped behind his back, and leaned in close until the tip of his nose almost touched Links own. “But don’t clap for yourself just yet,” he continued in an almost softer tone, his black eyes roved up and down Links body, coming to rest on his lips. Link felt his cheeks heat up and the blood rush to his ears. Why in the Godesses’ name did he _stare_ so? He cursed himself for feeling embarrassed and instead forced his eyes to match Ghirahim's gaze. “That sword of yours is the only reason you still live.” He took a step nearer, which meant his body was now a hairs breadth from Links, he could feel the coolness of the demons skin against his face. Ghirahim raised a hand placing it on the pillar above Links shoulder and leaned on it. He glanced at The Goddess sword lying on the floor tiles and then back at Link, tossing his hair flamboyantly. His dark, tunnel-like eyes pierced Links electric-blue ones.  
I fear I've spent far too long teasing and toying with you...” Suddenly, Ghirahim leaned right down until his lips almost touched Link's skin; his cool breath ghosted against his cheek, raising his blood pressure. Link squeezed his eyes shut and turned his head away, almost forcibly, his face reddening even more. Why did his body react this way? He hated himself for the bubble of pleasure that blossomed somewhere near his navel. Ghirahim cocked his head and smiled.  
“What’s the matter Sky-child? You seem nervous…do you surrender then?” He leaned in again, lips still achingly close, but withholding any actual contact as though he were trying to see how far he could push the limit. His long tongue beckoned as he licked his lips. Jerkily, as though even against his own will Link turned his head slightly, tilting his chin a fraction to meet Ghirahim's lips. An electric energy surged from the meeting of their mouths to the tips of Links toes. He sagged against the dagger that held him. Thought flooded from his brain as Ghirahim cupped his head, wending his long fingers into Links hair and tugging at his scalp. His long tongue, once aggressive and menacing roved playfully between Links lips, teasing and tasting. He tasted good, Link thought stupidly as erotic shivers shot up his spine. This evil humanoid who talked of nothing but despair somehow seemed soft and warm…if only for a brief moment. Wait… _nothing but despair_ …Links senses came crashing back to him like a gate slamming shut and he tore his head away.  
  
What a _lovely_ twist to a _lovely_ game. The Demon Lord Ghirahim thought playfully as he finally took Links mouth in his. The Goddess' little hero has a dirty little secret now. He had his prey right where he wanted him, he thought mercilessly. Silly empathetic mortals whos emotions are all too easily swayed… The Demon Lord smiled against Links lips, and allowed him to sink deeper into the display of passion. He knew that he would not long have been a match for the boy and his magic blade, but Lord Ghirahim hadn’t gotten this far on swordplay alone. He knew he was the best because he possessed other strengths. The boy moaned slightly as Ghirahim gripped his hard, muscular shoulders, turning up the heat. Suddenly Link tore his head away; Ghirahim could see his eyes welling as the boy cried out in rage, lashing out with his legs which hovered several inches above the ground. Ghirahim danced backward with a chuckle.  
“Come now, Link…don’t tell me you weren’t enjoying yourself there…even a little… _tiny_ …bit?” Ghirahim licked his lips again and chuckled;  
“Besides, the girl’s presence has all but faded from this place, which means there’s no reason to linger here.” He turned lazily and strode away from Link as he continued to speak, “Goodbye Sky-child. Run and play this time. Get in my way again though, and you’re dead.” With a circular flourish of his jet-black blade, he disappeared in a whirl of diamonds. The dagger holding Links cuffs to the pillar also vanished.  
  
Breathing hard, Link bent to retrieve the Goddess sword and returned it to its scabbard, his mind racing. He glanced down at the heart container sparkling at him from the floor tiles. He thought fleetingly of hurling it across the room. The door at the end of the chamber beamed with a strange, pulsating light. Perhaps it could now be opened? Trying to push other emotions aside and focus on the task at hand, he strode to the door and heaved it open. His jaw dropped as he found himself face to face with a large spring of fresh water. Link had never seen such crystal clear water. His head swiveled this way and that as flora and fauna burst forth from every crack and crevice, and huge shady trees leaned lazily over the pool. Birds of every color sang and fluttered in the high branches and glittering insects hummed and buzzed in the sunlight. At the end of the largest pool loomed the statue of the Goddess. Before giving thought to anything else, Link headed to the statue and aimed a strike at the Goddess’ symbol. Almost immediately, Fi materialized in front of him ready to present the Goddess’ message. Link stood listening patiently, but inside he was a mess. What had he done? His emotions churned and wavered indecisively. He was brought abruptly back to his senses with the presentation of the next stone tablet. He tucked the smooth slab of stone roughly into his pouch and turned from the statue, a sudden feeling of dread and disorientation upon him. He departed, brooding for Skyloft.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is my first fic since college...(10ish years ago? Yeesh...) so go easy on me!


	2. Conflicted

The Demon Lord Ghirahim sat in his chamber deep within Lanayru Desert, one foot upon the arm of a massive throne-like chair, his back resting against the opposite side. It was hot and he had abandoned his tunic. He lounged lazily instead in loose-fitting white linen trousers with thread of gold embroidery winding up the voluminous legs and around the waist. Muscle stretched impressively across his bare chest, which rose and fell with each deep breath. He gazed, lost in thought, toward the ceiling, hands folded behind his head. His silken hair hung loosely about his cheeks and his penetrating, cat-like eyes stared hungrily toward the heavens. Link. Not twenty-four hours had passed since their meeting and the Sky-child haunted his thoughts. True, he now had a very important upper hand on the boy after drawing out his feelings in the Forest Temple. He had really been too soft with him. 

Ghirahim snorted in disgust as he crossed his other leg over the first one. _‘Who let their feelings show first?’_...a small voice wheedled in the back of his mind. Ghirahim roared, launching himself out of his chair at that thought. He came to rest at his writing desk, both hands gripping the sides, knuckles white. Behind the desk stood a magnificent mirror. It was framed in delicate wire of gold and silver, which wove together much like the vines of a plant. Deku Nut sized gemstones crested its peak. Ghirahim panted as he slowly raised his head to look into the mirror; he was positively shaking. The boy had reduced him to this…an emotional, hopeless, _merciful_ fool. He had never stooped so low to avoid defeat; practically groveling at his filthy, mortal feet. Ghirahim bared his teeth at his own reflection. _‘Were you really groveling?’_ came the sing-song voice…Ghirahim growled and swept from the mirror, his frustration mounting as he collapsed onto an enormous king-sized four-poster, his head in his hands as he fought internally with himself. 

The Demon Lord Ghirahim did not lust after; he did not yearn for another; he did not… _could not_ …love. His physical body still sought the baseless pleasures of the flesh, there was no denying ones most basic instinct. Lord Ghirahim’s desires had always been for power, precision, flawless masculinity, and beautiful things. Perhaps that was all this was, he thought as he raised his head and rested his chin upon his long tented fingers; an instinctual desire to fill a basic need…with a rather beautiful, young Sky-princeling. 

He gazed out of the barrier-less room, for it was always warm here and there was no need for walls or windows. A vast expanse of arid landscape stretched as far as the eye could see. Would it be so horrible to use the boy? They clearly had a connection however small. This connection could prove to be powerful, useful…in more ways than one, the Demon Lord thought mercilessly as a smile crept onto his face. He allowed himself an innocent fantasy of them writhing flushed and sweaty on the floor tiles, grasping hungrily at Links shoulders, pulling him closer, roving every curve of his sweet flesh with his tongue…Girahim thought very fondly of this somewhat more inhuman feature, silver lining of the curse that lay upon him…the boy was quite attractive. Perhaps that had unexpectedly thrown him off his guard to begin with. Yes, that would be it. The mortal boy seduced him with his seemingly _immortal_ good looks. 

Ghirahim sighed and chuckled lightly as he rose, continuing to survey his soon-to-be kingdom. A knock at the door announced a servant. 

“Come.” He spoke irritably. Ghirahim did not look around as the door creaked open. An ugly creature wearing nothing but a pale loin cloth sidled into the room; it placed a tray holding a pitcher of iced wine and a goblet onto the writing desk, bowed low, though Ghirahim was not watching and grunted slightly as it shut the door with a snap. The Demon Lord strolled over, poured himself a celebratory glass of wine and brought the cool liquid to his lips. Returning to the balcony he lifted his glass to the stars…”Until we meet again, Sky-child.” His chuckle echoed across the silence of the desert.

Meanwhile…

“C’mon Link, you haven’t touched any of your pumpkin soup. You look even worse these days than Groose does…” In unison, Link, Cawlin and Stritch glanced down the long table to where Groose sat. He certainly was in a right state; he had long abandoned his own soup and his elbow rested in a pool of his own tears which leaked silently down his normally cunning face. His pompadour seemed to have lost its springiness and instead drooped sadly over his furrowed brow. Link turned dully back to his own soup and continued to push pieces of pumpkin around his bowl.  
  
“We could go check out my bug collection Link,” suggested Stritch, “that always takes my mind off of things.”  
  
“Maybe later guys, thanks” Link replied and pushed his chair back. He exited the dining hall and headed toward his room at the end of the hall of Knight Academy. He threw open the door and allowed it to slam shut behind him.  
He heaved a great sigh as he flopped onto his bed. “What the hell am I doing…” He wondered aloud. He felt dirty and confused. His home, Skyloft, normally so welcoming and homely suddenly felt cold and uncomfortable. He felt like a different person; like a diseased animal that no one seemed to particularly want around. What had happened in the temple? He felt like a failure. He felt like he had failed everyone in Skyloft, and he especially felt like he had failed Zelda. Some Goddess’ Hero he was. Perhaps there had been some kind of mistake, and she and Fi had chosen wrong in him. His heart sank; he was really starting to believe he could help Zelda.  


They had been connected at the hip since they were small. Links parents had both passed away when he was young and Zeldas father had always looked after them both as children. Link had always considered Zelda his best friend; the one he always got into trouble with; the one who always got him out of trouble; the one he could always tell anything to. Everyone in Skyloft swelled with pride as Link and Zelda strolled down the lane, and were even more ecstatic when the both of them were accepted into the knight training program. As they had gotten older, they had both begun to realize the gravity of their relationship. Link knew that Zeldas father as well as the other elders of the town intended them to marry, and he had noticed the doe eyed looks she had been giving him more often lately. He knew that the real reason she wanted him to win the Wing Ceremony was so that she could ask him if he was ready to be serious. The reason he wanted to win the wing ceremony was to keep Groose’s advances at bay. The way he puffed about flaunting his intentions to get her alone were sickening enough in theory; Link didn’t think he could’ve bared it if they had ever come to fruition. Not that Zelda held any romantic feelings for Groose. She knew exactly how he felt about her, and had proven on more than one occasion that she was plenty capable of looking out for herself by socking Groose on the nose.  


As for Link, he had always felt like more of a protective older brother than a romantic partner for her, though he had neglected to completely reveal these feelings. He had never really felt romantic towards anyone before; it simply wasn’t a feeling he was accustomed to giving any priority to.  
  
But he had kissed Ghirahim. The Demon Lord Ghirahim; Zeldas sworn enemy and the enemy of the Goddess and her people. The enemy of everything he held dear.  
  
What did that make him? Why had Ghirahim initiated it? Was this merely another method of control intended to throw him off? Question after question chased themselves around Links mind, each one remained answerless. What was even worse is that he couldn’t get the image of the Demon Lord’s flawless pale face out of his head, nor could he banish the feeling of those soft, pearly lips upon his own. He had never felt the urge to kiss anyone before, what had made him start now? Unbidden, Images of Ghirahim grinding naked and sweaty against his body, caressing his ears with his long tongue flashed behind his closed lids. His eyes popped open and he sat bolt upright. He felt disgusted with himself. With an angry growl he tore off the Goddess sword and hurled it across the room. He unbuckled his shield and flung it at the closed door, leaving a large dent behind as it ricocheted away. He wrenched off his tunic and mail and tossed them at his wardrobe, followed by his breeches and boots. He stood hunched and breathing hard in the center of his room, his head hanging and silent tears streaming down his face. He slowly slumped cross-legged to the floor and let the tears come. He didn’t care anymore. Suddenly, a warm sensation cupped his chin, and he lifted his head.  
  
“Zelda….?” He slurred as he gazed into the brilliant gold light materializing before him. Zelda’s bright, shining smile swam before him and her warm laughter filled him up. He felt whole. “Zelda, I’m so sorry…” he sobbed. He knew he sounded utterly pathetic, but he seemed unable to stopper the floodgate of emotions that now escaped his tired, broken body.  
  
“Link…” the ethereal, feminine voice crooned, “The Goddess chose rightly Link…you must find the way…take heart, Link…you are my hero…” the voice began to recede, the golden light fading into darkness. Link felt the warmth under his chin disappear as he fell forward onto his carpets and knew no more.  
  
A pair of cat-like eyes peered down into the room from the top of the wardrobe, blinked twice, and disappeared in a flurry of black diamonds.


	3. Real Flames and Metaphors

Link awoke with a start, and he sat bolt upright rubbing copious amounts of sleep from puffy, tear streaked lids. As his breathing evened, he fell back onto his carpets with a great sigh. He struggled to hold on to the remnants of the dream he had been having. It had been a good one…Zelda had been in it, and they had been lolling in the sun of Faron Woods. The war was over and the surface world was peaceful. The images began to fade, slipping from Links mind like water through a sieve. It was then that he realized he had fallen asleep in the middle of the floor. It was lucky the warm season was upon Skyloft or he’d have frozen stiff. Even so, he didn’t move; he lay on his back staring at the ceiling as memories and emotions from the previous day flooded back. ‘The Goddess had chosen rightly’ Zelda told him. He still didn’t feel like much of a hero. He wasn’t sure how he felt about anything anymore. Ghirahim. Link wasn’t sure if ever wanted to see the Demon Lord again…or did he? For that matter, Link thought with a glare, perhaps this was exactly the kind of response that pathetic excuse for a lord wanted. He was being stupid. Ghirahim was his enemy. He would seek to use him in whatever way suited him. The thought was a small comfort but he held on to it as he roused and set about looking for his clothes.  


It was still quite early, but Link could hear the distant calls of Loftwings outside his open window. He wanted nothing more than to leave early without running into anyone. As he finished buckling the straps of his sword and shield, a glint of something shiny caught his eye from somewhere in the direction of his wardrobe. He stepped up to the large dresser and reached high over the topmost edge and his fingers closed over something hard and pointed. He opened his palm and his heart leapt immediately into his throat. A brilliant blue sapphire earring sparkled up at him, shaped like a diamond with sharp points at both ends; the earring that Lord Ghirahim was wearing yesterday in the dungeon. Link looked suddenly around as though expecting him to spring out of a dark corner. He steadied his breathing and looked back at the gem in his hand…no…he was being paranoid. Ghirahim wouldn’t dare show his face in Skyloft…would he? There were plenty of moments back in the dungeon yesterday when the earring could have simply dropped into one of Links pouches. Link sighed and stuffed the stone into his pocket. The morning was waning and he had work to do. He had made a promise to Zelda; to The Goddess herself. He didn’t intend to give up now, just because some pompous, overdressed peacock thought he could intimidate him. With his face set, Link exited his room, and sneaked quietly out the doors of Knight Academy, heading for the statue of The Goddess and the land of Eldin below.  
  
Later...  
  
Sweat beaded on Links brow as he jogged endlessly upward. The air within the Earth Temple was stiflingly hot, and he found himself wishing he could’ve removed his heavy chain mail. His boots echoed on the enameled floor, and the steady clink of his sword against shield reverberated from wall to wall along a seemingly endless hallway that sloped steadily upward. Steam billowed from beyond the edges of the walkway, which rose as though suspended in midair, and cruel stone spikes ran along its length. The heat made him tired and dizzy, and water had been all but scarce. At the moment, he was affirmatively thankful he had not run into Ghirahim, as he did not think he would have the strength to fight for much longer. But, a feeling of foreboding was beginning to settle upon him as he climbed. He would be lying to himself if he thought the door to freedom would come easily. As if this were some kind of summons, Links eyes caught movement from somewhere above him, and he looked up to find The Demon Lord himself leaning idly against the ear of a magnificent stone dragon. Link skidded to a halt as high, cold laughter filled the hallway, sending shivers racing up his spine.  
  
“Oh it’s you. Let me see…no that’s not it. This is so very embarrassing, but I seem to be at a loss for your name.”  
Link resisted the temptation to reach immediately for his sword. His heart was beating very fast and he fought to keep his face calm and even. He immediately felt ashamed at the thrill of seeing him again. Ghirahim leaned forward slightly and continued;  
  
“Not that it matters really. To tell you the truth, I’m feeling a bit frustrated and right now I just need someone to vent to. I heard my underlings had finally captured the Spirit Maiden, so of course I rushed over here. What can I say? I was excited. Flustered, even…But what did I find when I arrived? That agent of The Goddess…She had once again…” Ghirahim gritted his teeth, seeming to struggle for the right words. Even at a distance Link could see his body shaking with rage. “You see, what I’m trying to say is…That goddess-serving dog escaped with the girl!!” He roared, clenching his fists towards the ceiling in anger. His shoulders slumped forward and he panted like a crazed, rabid animal. His tilted, cavernous eyes stared fixedly at nothing, “I must have the Spirit Maiden in order to resurrect my master. I MUST HAVE HER.” He growled impatiently, suddenly seeming as though he was unaware where he was or that Link was still below him. Links eyes widened at the trance-like state that overtook Ghirahim. The Demon Lord suddenly tossed his beautiful head, quickly recovering himself, and continued; “…I got a little carried away there, didn’t I? I don’t deal well with…complications to plans I’ve laid out so carefully. It’s a character flaw of mine.” He continued with a dramatic sigh and a flourish of his red cape. Link remained still but mentally prepared himself for the worst. Ghirahim went on; “Ah, but something good can still come from this day!” He exclaimed delightedly. “I’ve had all this bottled-up anger smoldering inside me, and now I can release it.” He licked his lips, his voice growing hungrier, black eyes boring into Link. From his perch, he looked like a large, feral cat studying its prey; waiting for the right moment to pounce.  
  
Ghirahim gazed excitedly down at the boy, a demonic twinkle in his cat-like eyes. So he had lied…he hadn’t really forgotten the boy's name, how could he? It was just part of the game, and he didn’t want to seem too eager. In a sudden flash of diamonds, he disappeared from atop the dragon statue and quicker than a blink, reappeared behind Link grasping his shoulders with his long, gloved fingers. He leaned close to him and whispered in his ear; 

“Did you miss me boy? Did you think you would never see me again?” Link struggled in his grasp, but Ghirahim held him fast. He nipped Links ear and shoved him away hard, laughing cruelly.  
  
Link cursed himself for waiting so long to draw his sword as he stumbled forward, barely catching himself as he whipped around to face Ghirahim. “You have done well to make it this far boy, but you remember what I told you the last time we met…” His wicked smile nearly split his face in two as he strode arrogantly toward Link with his arms held wide. Link quickly drew his sword and readied himself. He couldn’t afford to lose control this time, Zelda’s life depended on it. He caught sight of Ghirahim's ear now that he was closer. It was bare. The earring in Link's pocket suddenly seemed to weigh a hundred pounds. 

“Now, tell me, Link isn’t it?” He said mockingly. “Do I haunt your dreams?” Link's hands shook as he raised his sword. “Is your every waking thought inundated with my face?” Sweat poured down Link's spine, and his face contorted in a savage grimace. In spite of himself, he couldn’t help admiring The Demon Lord as he swaggered forward. The diamond cut-outs that ran up the arms of his tunic stretched as he flexed his muscles. Ghirahim continued to smile wickedly at him.  
  
“Shut up!” Link screamed, leaping at Ghirahim. His sword rent the air with a twang as he brought is swiftly down toward Ghirahim's flawless face. In a flash, his jet-black saber was in his hand and he brought it up quickly to deflect the blow with crack of steel on steel.  
  
“Your thoughts betray you boy,” Ghirahim panted as he fought to keep the Goddess’ Blade from his throat. Link's face was twisted with rage and sweat trickled over his brow as he grunted with equal effort. “If there’s one thing I hate more than bad manners, it’s a liar.” Ghirahim's nose was inches from Links, their crossed swords shaking from each man's efforts to hold the other at bay.  
  
“Happy to disappoint you…” Link growled as The Goddess sword grated against Ghirahim's. He couldn’t hold him like this for much longer. Just as the thought occurred to him, Ghirahim leapt suddenly backward with a scream of fury.  
  
“LIAR!!” He shouted and before Link could raise his sword again, The Demon Lord swung hard with the back of his hand, striking Link across the side of his face. Link stumbled back, a metallic taste filling his mouth. He raised his head slowly, blinking away stars as Ghirahim tossed his head angrily, but a smile almost immediately returned to his lips. “Now you’ve gone and made me lose my temper.” He said almost apologetically. His black saber suddenly vanished from his hand in a shower of diamonds. “There now, is that better?” His high voice oozed with a false sweetness. “Come now little hero, you still haven’t answered me…” Ghirahim coaxed as he began circling Link, “You needn’t worry…your little secret is safe with me…” His voice was barely more than a whisper now. Link watched, willing himself to focus as The Demon Lord closed in. A wild urge to lower his sword took over Link, and he fought to hold his arm steady as Ghirahim drew nearer. His emotions churned within him. He wanted to kill Ghirahim, and taste his lips again at the same time. No! He thought desperately. Kill him! Do it now! DO IT! With a yell, he lunged at Ghirahim, grabbing him by the throat and throwing him to the enameled floor tiles. Bringing the Goddess Sword to the smooth skin of his neck, he snarled viciously. Ghirahims breath came in short gasps, his tunnel-like eyes flashing, but his voice was calm and even.  
  
“Go ahead boy. Go ahead and do it…the moment you’ve been waiting for…”  
For a moment, neither man moved a muscle. Link's mind raced; he had been waiting for this moment, but now that it was here he hesitated. Why? Why in the Goddess’ name? A furious battle raged within him; one side continuing to scream ‘Kill him! Do it now!’. Link gulped guiltily at the opposing thought…Ghirahim had not been entirely wrong when he had accused Link of being a liar. The moments passed and Ghirahim's smile deepened. Slowly, very slowly, one long-fingered hand slithered its way under the razor-sharp edge of The Goddess Sword and clasped a handful of Link's tunic. The pressure of the blades edge against Ghirahim's neck lessened as Link felt the tension draining from his muscles. He slowly lowered his sword as Ghirahim tugged at the front of his tunic. The sword clattered to the floor as he pulled Link down, taking his mouth aggressively. Link exhaled heavily as he clasped Ghirahim's face in his hands. He shivered as Ghirahim's other hand slid up the back of his tunic where it had come un-tucked from his utility belt and ran his fingers down Links spine in an almost tender way. Suddenly, Ghirahim pushed against his chest, rolling him smoothly onto his back and leaned into him, grinding his hips roughly into Link's. His breath caught and he let out a little gasp of ecstasy against Ghirahim's lips. Ghirahim began to trace his jaw line with his long, and rather talented tongue, licking the trickle of blood away from the corner of his mouth. Link arched his back as a warm sensation began to spread from somewhere near his groin. He suddenly retracted his hips embarrassedly. Ghirahim smiled into his ear and leaned deeper into him. With one hand he twined his fingers into Link's hair; he slid the other slowly down between his thighs. Link cried out, bucking against Ghirahim's hand as his own shot nervously down to catch it. He pulled his face back, looking intently into Ghirahim's. His mouth was parted and there was a fire in his deep, dark eyes. Desire colored his pale face. For the briefest moment he no longer looked menacing or cruel.  
  
Lord Ghirahim smiled as he shoved Link roughly onto his back, continuing to devour his mouth. This had been much easier than he had thought it would be. The boy was indeed naïve and innocent. He was proving quite a naughtly little hero, as he practically begged for more. Even Ghirahim surprised himself with how easily his hands roved the boy’s body, and at how much he himself enjoyed it. He smiled as he licked Link's face; the boy groaned as he grew hard quickly. Clearly, he lacked discipline, Ghirahim thought amusedly to himself as he thrust his hips into him. Perhaps he simply needed another lesson…Lord Ghirahim was a patient man, and always willing to teach others, he smirked as he slid his hand downward…but Link's hand abruptly caught his, and his sapphire eyes shot open, looking apprehensively into his own. There was confusion there…and conflict. A pang of guilt jolted Ghirahim. The feeling surprised him, and he quickly shoved it down. For a moment, they simply stared at one another. Link dropped his gaze and struggled up brusquely. Ghirahim also stood gracefully, adjusting his four-pointed cape. For the first time, he found he had nothing to say. Link bent down, turning his back, and picked up his sword. Ghirahim watched apprehensively as he hefted it, perhaps weighing his options, before sliding it slowly back into its scabbard. 

Several moments passed before Link finally turned to look at him. The Demon Lord met his gaze evenly. He looked suddenly uneasy; not at all like the conceited, over-confident villain he usually exuded. Link summoned his courage and spoke;  
  
“I will save Zelda. No matter how long it takes, no matter how far I must go. This doesn’t make us any less enemies.” He breathed in and out through his nose, his heart hammering against his ribcage. “You can stand in my way, in which case I am prepared to fight, or you can stand aside.” His voice grew stronger as he continued to talk, and with it his courage mounted. Ghirahim stared darkly back. Link could see the opposition behind his eyes, he could sense the confusion brewing deep within, but Ghirahim's devotion to Demise was strong.  
  
“Your foolish loyalties will be the death of you boy…” He spat, malice returning to his voice. The fire in his eyes seemed to burn out, and they became nothing but cold, lifeless tunnels once more. He was no longer smiling. A very ugly look contorted his face. He snapped his fingers and in a burst of diamonds he returned to the top of the dragon's head. “There’s someone special I’d like you to meet.” He announced as though presenting a King to his court. “Oh! Don’t be shy! I need to vent all of this unhealthy anger, and your agony will be such a great stress reliever.” Link glowered up at him. Fucking coward. “It won’t take more than a few moments with my friend before you’re charred to a satisfying crisp. And let me tell you, that will certainly put a new spring in my step!” He snapped his fingers again and vanished from the top of the statue. Link exhaled heavily and squeezed his eyes shut as he internally lidded the fresh wave of emotions that boiled within him. He still had to get out of the temple alive. Zelda. His face set, he continued upwards wishing he had a bit of water.


	4. The Reality of a Dream

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I've been itching to share this piece about how Ghirahim becomes evil since I first decided to write this thing...enjoy!

Link turned away from the Great Statue of the Goddess, his face burning. Her eyes seemed to bore into him accusingly despite the fixed stone smile upon her face. Impa’s words echoed in his ears; he had been too late. He had failed to protect Zelda again. Fi, who normally returned to his sword after reciting The Goddess’ next instructions, lingered just to his left. Though her features remained neutral, she cocked her head at him in a sympathetic way.  
  
“Master, you seem troubled. Is there anything that I might do to help you?”  
Link shook his head jerkily without speaking. She floated elegantly around to face the statue once more and spoke again;  
“This place, like the one you have previously visited within the Forest Temple is very old. They were created as safe havens for the tired and travel-weary. Just as Zelda herself sought purification and healing here, so perhaps should you. Let the sacred waters of the Great Goddess wash over your battle-weakened body and ease your pain.” Fi turned to face him, nodded once, and returned to his sword in an arc of purple incandescence.  


Perhaps she was right, he thought, hanging his head. He reached up and began to unbuckle his sword and shield with slightly trembling fingers. At least Zelda was alive, and at least she had an ally, however brash and cryptic the woman was. Link bit off a different emotion…jealousy? He had always been the one to protect Zelda from Groose and his bullies on Skyloft. He had been trusted to protect her against whatever new evil forces awaited her here, but Impa had gotten there first, and now she went so far as to insult him? He balled up his chainmail and threw it roughly to the stone tile walkway with a clatter. What did she think?! That this had all been fun and games for him?? He wasn’t going to let her take all the credit, no way; he thought savagely as he stepped out of his breeches. He tiptoed, completely bare, toward the gently steaming waters of the Earth Spring. He dipped the toes of one foot into the crystal-clear water. The water was warm, but not too hot and he stepped the rest of the way in to his waist. It felt wonderful, like a warm blanket wrapping itself around him. A comforting energy seemed to heat him from the inside out. A feeling of contentment and peace grew from somewhere near his middle and radiated outward to the tips of his fingers and toes. He sloshed forward towards The Goddess statue and gazed up into her stone face.  
  
“I’m not quitting.” He said aloud. “I set out to rescue her, and I swear to you I will not rest until she is safe… and if it requires my life, I will gladly give it in your service.” He trailed off, a single tear leaked from his eye and dropped upon her mossy toes. Perhaps he was imagining it, but Link could have sworn he saw her smile deepen. He had meant what he said. He couldn’t put into words how happy he had been to at least see Zelda alive.  


He turned and sunk all the way into the water at the statue’s feet. The pool was shallow and his head remained above the water even as he crossed his legs under him. “Ouch!” He hissed as the warm water leeched over his left shoulder. He glanced over to see a shiny, chain-mail patterned burn criss-crossing his bicep. ‘Must’ve gotten a little too close…’ he thought as the tingling began to subside. He did a double-take as the spot blended completely into smooth skin before his eyes. He looked, wide-eyed, upward at the statue. Letting out a long sigh, he let his head rest against the edge of the stone dais upon which the Goddess loomed. The sky opened endlessly above him, a mixture of smoke and hues of blue as the scorched world around him churned. He fought to clear his mind of questions and focused instead on each muscle of his body releasing as the tension melted away in this magical place. The minutes snailed by as he drifted in and out of conscious thought.  


Slowly, he began to let one question at a time in. What had Impa meant by The Gate of Time? He supposed he would find out soon enough. He wasn’t going to give up. He would train harder, travel longer…he would do whatever it took. What was Ghirahim’s plan for him? He had wasted no time in expressing that his top priority was still to capture Zelda and use her in some evil plot that Link still did not fully understand. But, he had let his guard crumble back in the temple…there was certainly something almost tender about the way he had held Link and caressed him. He had had more than one opportunity to kill Link, and he had once again held out. He closed his eyes. He still didn’t know if he could trust Ghirahim, or if the way he indulged himself was merely another method of control. He certainly seemed willing enough to offer his body, and he certainly seemed angry enough when Link had cut him short. Emotions were merely a reflection of ones true vulnerabilities, Link thought philosophically. Ghirahim was torn between the only world he had ever known; his hatred for The Goddess and his desire to please his master, perhaps there was even some promised reward upon doing so… and his craving for Link; The Goddesses hero, his sworn enemy, destined to bring an end to both he and Demise.  


Then there was Link himself. What did this mean for him? He had never desired to be physical with anyone before, and he still couldn’t quite believe he was choosing to experiment with someone he was destined to defeating sooner or later. Resisting him had proven unsuccessful so far and Link had already made a deal with himself that he would take things as they came and direct as much of his energy as he could into staying alive as long as possible. Whether Ghirahim's feelings for him were sincere or not, they certainly proved to be a decent enough distraction that he hadn’t killed him yet. Who was using whom now? He thought with a grin. Would he be able to do it…when the time came? If it came down to it, would he be able to kill Ghirahim? He left that question unanswered for now. Perhaps he wouldn’t have to, he thought slowly. Link had sensed the conflict within the demon back in the Temple, try as he did to hide it. The Goddess had chosen Link to save Zelda. Perhaps this strange connection between he and the Demon Lord held other possibilities. Perhaps there was still good in him. Link had seen it in his eyes, however briefly as he had gazed up at him back in that hallway. Link's cheeks flushed and he felt his groin flutter. He opened his eyes and looked around the spring, letting his thoughts fade. It was time to go.  
  
Meanwhile…

_The wood around him was pitch-black save for the occasional burst of flames from behind, illuminating the trees in shades of orange and red. The small, trembling hand of a young Ghirahim was clutched desperately in the hand of a woman’s. An older man placed his hand on Ghirahim's shoulder, urging him forward as they made their way along the forest path. The route was teeming with refugees, fleeing the forest as armies of Bokoblin had surged through the smaller villages.  
  
“Mother, where are we going?” The young boy panted as he was practically dragged along.  
  
“Hush now!” She replied in a strained whisper. Suddenly the path gave way to a large meadow; the Great Temple of the Goddess loomed in the distance. There were already many families here, children clutching at their mothers’ skirts and adults whispering worriedly to one another. “Are you sure this is the place?” The woman whispered nervously to the man clutching Ghirahim's shoulder. Before he could answer, an almighty boom shook the very earth they stood on, forcing the boy and his parents to the ground. Screams and shouts from the surrounding villagers pierced the air. Ghirahim lifted his chin and chanced a glance at the far ridge. Another boom shook the ground and his eyes beheld a monstrous black form rising in the distance. A fresh wave of screams issued from behind him and he rolled onto his back; his mother was trying to crawl to him, and behind her a mad scramble of bodies was struggling desperately forward. A moment later, Ghirahim understood why. _

_Arrows whistled through the air, many piercing the bodies of the helpless crowd, and people fighting their way forward suddenly grew still. The lumpy, grotesque shapes of hundreds of Bokoblin began teeming from the forest behind them, illuminated every so often by the persitent flashes of orange and red light beyond. Ghirahim frantically scrabbled to his feet, fighting to maintain balance as the enormous black form across the clearing continued to rage. His mother and father were crawling toward him and he stumbled ahead, half-blind in the darkness, reaching out his hand. He was hindered by the stampede of bodies rushing forward to get away from the Bokoblin army. Abruptly, he was knocked clean off his feet and keeled head over heels down the sloped path toward the clearing below. He landed on his back and gasped as the wind was knocked out of him, blinking as something warm trickled into his eyes. He tasted blood.  
_

_He suddenly threw his hands up to shield his face as a blinding white light flashed before his eyes. The terrified screams of the surrounding crowd were suddenly broken with excited ‘ooohs, and aaahhs’. Keeping one hand clamped over his eyes, Ghirahim rolled over onto his belly and peered through his fingers at complete pandemonium. A brightly lit, opalescent barrier had surrounded the clearing, easily stretching to an insurmountable height. The great blackness looming over the other side of the meadow faltered, held back by the huge, magical wall. Similarly, as Girahim craned his head to look up the hill behind him, the Bokoblin that had fought their way through to the clearing could be seen hammering their fists at the wall, pulling rude faces and screaming with rage, but unable to cross through. If the Bokoblin couldn’t get through then…Ghirahim's stomach dropped horribly and he scrambled back to his feet, head spinning. White-hot pain seared up his left leg and he almost fell back. Looking down he could see a large, ragged laceration where his leg had probably scraped on a rock during his fall. He gritted his teeth and forced his feet forward. He must reach the top, surely his mother and father would be there…He struggled onward and upwards, trying to drown out the petrifying screams of the villagers around him who had begun to realize their loved ones were trapped on the other side of the wall, out of reach. His leg gave way halfway up the slope and he crawled on all fours as he drew near the iridescent light of the barrier before him. It was a sickening sight. People stuck on the other side hammered their fists uselessly against the barricade, screaming for help. Bokoblins continued to slash about mercilessly, killing anyone in their path. Ghirahim crawled desperately along the grass, eyes searching, pleading for a familiar hand to reach for his when he saw her…not three feet along in front of him…on the opposite side. He struggled over to her and pounded uselessly against the translucent surface.  
  
“Mother!” He screamed as she looked hopelessly on. He slid to his knees as she reached both of her hands up to the smooth, warm surface of the barrier. Her tear-streaked face was frightened as she gazed into his eyes. He uncurled his fists so that his much smaller hands mirrored hers.  
  
“All will be well my son. Trust in The Goddess, for she has come to save us all. Do not despair, and take heart, for I will always love you.”  
Ghirahim squeezed his eyes shut, hot tears mixed with dried blood and grime cascading down his cheeks. He didn’t understand at all what was happening. He couldn’t leave her, he had to find some way through. Just as he began to scan the wall around him for any sign of weakness, a bright ball of light flashed behind him and he turned, once more shielding his eyes from the brilliance. A large sphere of golden light descended slowly into the middle of the clearing, and as its radiance lessened, Ghirahim could just make out the face of a woman. _

_She was beautiful; her long, golden hair swirled about her as if suspended in a perpetual breeze, her flawless face glowed with an ageless youth. A long white robe billowed and swirled about her as she hung suspended in the middle of the clearing. Awe-struck, the surrounding villagers held their breath. Squinting his eyes, Ghirahim could see a small, golden harp in her hand. She started to play; it was the most beautiful melody he had ever heard. She then began to sing and her voice filled him from the tips of his ears to his toes. He fought the urge to slump forward weeping. The chaos around him seemed to melt away, and his heart swelled. It was as if nothing beyond the pearlescent barrier existed any longer. As she finished her tune, a great rumbling issued from beneath Ghirahim's feet, slamming him back to reality. He turned back toward his mother; tears ran down her face, and she smiled sadly up at him…up at him? They were moving. The earth upon which Ghirahim sat was moving steadily upward.  
  
“No! Nooooo!!!” He screamed, hammering at the glass separating them. His mother continued to smile reassuringly.  
  
“You are safe, my son.”_  
  
Lord Ghirahim jerked awake, sitting bolt upright in his bed, gasping for air. His whole body shook and his eyes were burning. He clutched his head, trying to steady his breathing. He threw back the linen coverlet, swinging his legs over the side of the bed as he continued to gulp in air. It had been a long time since he had spared any thought to his childhood either conscious or unconscious. He leaned his head back and sighed, black eyes staring at the vaulted ceiling. A warm breeze drifted in from the direction of the balcony and he rose. Perhaps some fresh air would do him good. He strode outside and crossed his arms on the sand-stone railing. 

Ghirahim slept very little as a general rule, and when he did, his sleep was often fitful and full of nightmares. Still, it had been a very long time indeed since he had dreamed of his meager beginnings. He was growing soft indeed. This nonsense with the boy was to blame. He had all but thrown himself at him and yet he resisted; the sheer nerve. Rejection wasn’t an emotion Ghirahim was accustomed to feeling, and it had taken him by surprise. Only fool, love-sick mortals indulged themselves in such feelings. He needed the boy for one purpose; to reach Zelda. ‘Then why not simply kill him and be done with it?’ that annoying little voice in the back of his mind chimed in. Ghirahim closed his eyes, and lifted his chin towards the stars.  
  
“You certainly can’t possibly _care_ for the boy?” A deep, malicious voice suddenly growled.  
Ghirahims heart stopped as he whipped around, his eyes darting from corner to corner, searching for the source of the voice. Suddenly, a searing pain clouded his vision. His head felt like it might explode as he doubled over, gasping in agony. He clutched at his temples, as he fell to his knees.  
  
“Stop!” He begged as his fists hit the rough stone of the balcony. Stars danced in his vision, and tears welled in his eyes. Just as he thought we would pass out from the pain, it was gone. He collapsed onto the stone, gasping. He felt sick. His head swam as he looked up. A large, roiling blackness began to ooze from under the eave of the roof.  
  
“Surely you haven’t developed an aversion to bloodshed?” The ice-cold, disembodied voice continued, and Ghirahim knew…  
  
“Master, “ He began as he struggled to push himself to one knee, his head still pounding, “I am simply trying to…” He began, but the voice of Demise cut him off;  
  
“You are a pathetic fool, Ghirahim. Your thirst for frivolity has clouded your purpose.” The voice spat viciously. “Need I remind you of your oath?”Ghirahim's eyes popped and he fell forward against the cool stone, pleading;  
  
“Master! Surely you can trust me? I have the boy under control. He could still prove useful alive…” The cloud of black churned and writhed in an agitated sort of way. Abruptly, Ghirahim felt, rather than saw a hand close around his throat, dragging him upwards until his feet dangled above the stone floor. His hands scrabbled at the invisible vice around his neck as he fought for air.  
  
“Don’t. Disappoint. Me. Again.” The voice grated in a harsh, gravely whisper.  
Just as suddenly, Ghirahim felt the force clenching his windpipe disappear, and he fell face forward into the hard floor, gasping thickly. He rolled onto his back panting and rubbing his throat. The boy would pay, he thought savagely. The boy would pay for this humiliation. He breathed evenly through his nose, his mind racing. There was still time, he reassured himself. The Sky-child would soon be his.


	5. Time

Link loped determinedly along the sandstone path that encompassed a large courtyard. Broken pillars of stone rose about the tumble-down turrets and battlements of what looked like a very old outpost. Swathes of sand had blown in from the desert and the stone had been worn smooth in places from many years of sandstorm activity. A great bridge stretched across the center of the courtyard, and a huge wrought-iron fixture of a winged Triforce of Courage loomed over the far wall, silhouetted against the late afternoon sun. As Link turned towards the bridge his ears caught the tinkling sounds of a harp, and the most beautiful voice he had ever heard. It was then that he saw them; Impa and Zelda stood upon a dais where a massive clock-work something rose several meters into the sky. Zelda was strumming a small, golden harp. The tune seemed to meld great sadness with an overwhelming sense of happiness and peace all at the same time. Link took a step forward, his mouth hanging open. Zelda caught sight of him, and gasped. She turned from the huge structure, her long blonde hair swirling, and began to run, smiling, back across the bridge toward Link.  
Suddenly, the stone wall to Link’s left exploded outward in a shower of heavy brick and sand. High, cold laughter penetrated the great cloud of dust, and Link knew before he saw who that cruel voice belonged to. With a great leap, Girahim landed cat-like before the bridge, his blood-red cape billowing. Before Link could take a step further, Girahim brought his jet-black sword swishing to point at Link. He noted this time that it was indeed a broad-sword he wielded instead of the saber he had held at their first meetings. A great wall of diamonds sprang up from the stone, barricading him from moving forward. The Demon chuckled wickedly, winking at Link as he turned back toward Impa and Zelda. With a roar, he ran full force across the bridge as Impa leapt forward to meet him. Link watched helplessly from behind the wall of twinkling black diamonds as Impa drew her palms together. A huge half-dome of pale light sprang from where her wrists met, creating a force field through which Girahim could not penetrate. He slashed and struck at the barrier with his blade as he howled in anger. Even from a distance, Link could see the toll it was taking on Impa to hold the shield. He also noticed that the diamond wall before him was beginning to falter; perhaps Girahims pre-occupation with breaking through Impas shield also required his absolute concentration.  
  
“Impa!” Zelda cried.  
  
“Your Grace, quickly, to the gate!” Impa called back over her shoulder as Girahim continued to slash wildly. Zelda turned, but instead of proceeding through the strange pulsating endlessness that must be The Gate Of Time, she ran along the opposite side of the pathway until she was level with Link.  
  
“Link!” She cried, “Link, here! You’ll need this where you’re going!” She held aloft the small golden harp, and it sailed across the black chasm of emptiness in an arc of gold. Link reached his hands up and caught the instrument as it floated above his head.  
  
“Go! NOW!” Impa yelled, as the shield before her began to flutter and wane. The diamond barrier before Link had all but disappeared. Zelda flung herself back along the path towards the gate, just as an almighty crack split the air. Impa was thrown backwards onto the stone as her shield finally gave way. Girahim was laughing maniacally as he raised his jet-black sword, ready to kill. Link leapt forward, bringing the Goddess Sword swishing down toward Girahim, and he was forced to leap backward out of the way. Link planted himself between Girahim and Impa, a defiant look on his face. Whether there was good left in Girahim or not, if it came down to he or Zelda, Link knew what he would choose.  
“Link…” Impa panted, raising herself onto her elbows. Her tilted eyes were kind.  
  
“Go!” Link said, more calmly than he felt. “Protect Zelda.” He turned his eyes back to Girahim who was quickly recovering himself at a distance, a look of horror on his face.  
  
“You have my thanks, Link. I will leave him to you, but you must go quickly back to the Old Woman at The Sealed Grounds. Tell her what happened here. She will know where you must go!” Impa got to her feet and sprinted back over the bridge to where Zelda looked on at the entrance of the gate. She turned, raising her hand to the sky and a bright sphere of white light bloomed above her open palm, pulsating gently. “Know that we w—“  
  
“I’ll see you again!” Zelda interjected as Impa pushed her towards the strange, endlessly spiraling hallway of the gate. “This isn’t goodbye, Link!” She managed to shout before the gate swallowed she and Impa in a whirl of pale light. The orb Impa had conjured fell, as if in slow motion towards the stone dais. Link’s stomach dropped and he dove forward as his suspicions were confirmed. An ear-splitting explosion rent the air around them, and the mighty gate crumbled in a shower of heavy stone and mortar. Girahim stepped forward, his eyes widening in alarm.  
  
“Now you’ve done it, Link.” Girahim growled savagely. “I blame myself. I should have reprimanded you the last time we met, but instead I was…soft.” The Demon Lord blinked quickly as he shoved down images of the boys flushed, sweaty face; the feel of his soft, supple lips. “I’d take pleasure in punishing you, but I have no time for recreation. Next time, I’ll do more than just beat you senseless; I’ll make the affair so excruciating, you’ll deafen yourself with the shrill sound of your own screams.” Girahim whirled his black sword in a high arc, and disappeared in a burst of diamonds.  
  
Girahim re-appeared suddenly in his chamber, panting uncontrollably. He threw his broadsword to the floor tiles and stumbled toward his four-poster, catching himself upon the bedstead. He slumped to the floor, as hot tears filled his eyes. With a yell of fury, he pounded the stone floor with his fists. The tears came and he didn’t fight them. He hardly recognized himself anymore. He could have easily cut the boys head off back at the ruins of Ancient Hyrule, yet he bluffed that he had more important engagements. And all he could think about was seeing him again. What was happening to him? He had never second-guessed his master, never challenged his role in their future together. Demise had saved him, all those years ago. Demise had shown him the true nature of the Goddess and her so-called love for her people. Why was he all of a sudden so willing to sacrifice everything for this meddling, Goddess-worshiping boy? Girahim rose slowly, and sat upon the edge of his fine, feather mattress and put his head in his hands. Perhaps he had out-grown his role as Demise’s right-hand? His head throbbed unpleasantly at that thought. Demise had more control over him than the boy knew…he could never be rid of him. Even should he wish for independence, Girahim was as much Demise’s slave as he was his ally. The magical bonds that tied their fates ran deep. Girahims nails scratched trails in his cheeks, and he swiped the tears roughly from his face and gazed out beyond the balcony. The sun was beginning to set. How did he really feel about the boy?...The thought came suddenly and awkwardly to him, as though conjured up by someone else’s brain. If he were honest with himself; which was not something Girahim was accustomed to being since he had been instructed all his life to suppress the human emotions of fear, empathy, and love; he didn’t want to harm the boy. Far from it. The admission felt foreign to him, as though he were thinking these thoughts outside his own body. He swallowed hard as tears continued to drain silently down his face. He breathed heavily, open-mouthed. He did care for the boy. His breath caught and his eyes widened in shock in spite of himself. Someone may as well have just uttered a particularly disgusting swear-word for all the reaction this simple admission caused. But there was no denying it, and no going back. Demise would surely kill him if he ever knew just how seriously besotted he was. He already suspected, true…but Girahim was determined to keep his feelings locked away, in the deepest, darkest corner of his heart. He was something of an expert at that. No one. Could. Know. He breathed deeply though his nose, and walked over to the mirror behind his desk. His reflection was different, there was a complexity in his eyes, a different quality to his expression…dare he admit it…a more human quality. He lifted his chin and stared defiantly back at himself. A valiant inner battle seemed to rage within him. The moments passed as he stared, unblinking at his reflection. He turned abruptly from the mirror and strode to the wash basin at his bedside and cupped his hands within the cool water. He cleansed his face and toweled it dry. His hair hung, unperturbed by the dampness, over his left eye. As far as where his loyalties lay, he would dwell more on that later. Right now, he had a house-call to make.


	6. Musings of a Demon

Link’s shoulders slumped as he trudged up the long stairway to Knight Academy. His body ached and his head was full of the events back in Lanayru. He was glad that Zelda was again; safe with Impa. He swelled with pride; he was glad to have finally been useful. Girahims actions had given Link more to think about. He had seemed erratic, and desperate, not at all his usual calculating self. The problem was, Link wasn’t sure what that meant, either good or bad. But, if he continued to make mistakes, perhaps he would fail to succeed in capturing Zelda. Link wasn’t going to give up hope. He crested the top of the long staircase, and though his body begged for sleep, he turned instead toward the sparring hall. He needed to blow off some steam before retiring, and he had made a promise to himself to train harder. He was going to need it before this all came to a head.  
He turned the large brass knob of the giant, carved hardwood double doors, and they creaked slightly as they swung open. It was getting late, and the sparring hall was empty. He walked forward drawing his sword. He took a moment to admire it; it was rather handsome and intimidating. He turned at the top of the room and leapt to his right, circling and pivoting around a large vertical stump of wood that was taller than he was. This piece was intended for piercing thrusts, and there was already a deep hole in the center. Link rolled nimbly in front of the log, pretending to dodge its invisible blows. As he came back up to standing he threw all of his weight behind the hilt and thrust it forward into the log. He smiled triumphantly. He went to pull back, and the sword didn’t budge. Grasping the hilt with both hands he heaved up and down, but the blade held fast. He released it panting and walked to the other side of the log. A foot-and-a-half of bright steel stuck out the backside.  
  
“Allow me.” A voice said from the rafters.  
  
Link whirled around, eyes searching the wooden beams above…and he caught sight of him; Girahim was sitting on a large crossbeam with his back to another, his chin perched idly on the palm of his hand as he grinned down at Link. The Demon snapped his fingers and the sword crackled within the log that held it, causing Link's head to whip back around as a strange light pulsated around the blade and it slid with a creak of steel on splinters from the center of the log and flew through the air to rest above Link's right hand. He grasped the hilt and the light winked out as he turned slowly back to Girahim, who was standing upon the beam now, silhouetted against the fading light that streamed in through skylights in the ceiling.  
  
“Wh…what…” Link stammered slightly, “What are you doing here?” He managed, holding the sword steady.  
  
“Is that any way to welcome your guest?” He spoke in a voice that was different…instead of sounding high, cold, and cruel; he sounded calm, his tone even and more real. He leapt lightly from the ceiling beam and landed before Link. Even his face had changed. His eyes, though still black as night seemed brighter, with a strange warmth to them. His skin was still pale, yet it seemed to glow. Instead of his usual red cape, he wore a magnificent royal blue traveling cloak, and soft brown leather boots. Link couldn’t seem to find words as Girahim stepped slowly closer to him.  
  
The boy’s surprise at seeing him delighted Girahim. He looked tired and worn; it almost seemed to add age to his beautiful, youth-filled face. Girahim stopped a few feet from him, and cocked his head to the side, his silken hair shimmering.  
  
“Don’t worry, I haven’t come here to give swordplay lessons.” He said softly. Slowly Link lowered his blade, his cheeks coloring. Girahim smiled as Links eyes narrowed and he lifted his chin.  
“Then,” Link spoke slowly, the words coming from deep in his throat, “Why have you come here?” Even as the words left his lips, he knew the answer. He could sense it in the way Girahims steadfast gaze penetrated him. He stepped forward, letting his sword hand go slack, closing the remaining distance between them. He looked up into Girahims face, his chest rising and falling against his own, they were now so close. His dark eyes twinkled with desire, his pearly-white lips parted slightly.  
  
“If that isn’t obvious to you yet, Link, you are in need of another serious lesson…” Girahim trailed off.  
Link smiled in spite of himself. He let the Goddess sword drop to the floor. His hands crept slowly over Girahims chest, coming to rest on his shoulders. Link pulled his face down, their lips meeting. Girahim wrapped his arms around Links waist, pulling him closer, pressing his own lips deeply and hungrily into Links. He maneuvered his lips apart and slid his long tongue gently between them. Link shuddered in ecstasy. He let his thoughts go, striving to live in this moment. He wanted to savor it. Girahim suddenly bent without breaking away, and laced his fingers underneath Links seat, hoisting him up. He wrapped his legs around The Demon and gripped his shoulders. He pulled his lips away and instead leaned in to run his own tongue along the edge of Girahims long pointed ear. Girahim squeezed his eyes shut and grunted feverishly with his head tilted back. Link nipped the spot where his blue earring should have been…he had almost forgotten about it.  
  
Perhaps he was being foolish, but he no longer cared, Girahim thought recklessly. He needed Link; which was quickly proving to be a wonderful decision. He had been counting on the boy to be woefully inexperienced, but so far he was doing quite well, Girahim thought as his body ached for more. He leaned his head back and allowed Link to explore with his tongue. But, there were things he needed him to understand; another reason for his visit here tonight. Slowly and regrettably he released his hands, and Link slid back down to the soft floor, looking questioningly up at Girahim with those sapphire eyes. He reached a hand down and cupped his cheek.  
  
“There is much I have to tell you.” He said, trying to summon sincerity into his voice. “There are things about me you don’t understand…things about my past…things that drive my future.”  
Link stared up at Girahim, worry creasing his brow as he spoke. The Demon looked away as he continued;  
“I don’t expect you to forgive me, but it’s important that we understand one another.” His voice was strained, as though it cost him greatly to speak of these things. Link bent and re-sheathed his sword before striding back to Girahim and taking his pale, long-fingered hand.  
  
“You can tell me whatever you need to, I can't guarantee it will change my mind.” He whispered firmly. Girahim turned to him, a strange half-smile on his lips.  
  
“Now, I believe you have something of mine.” He said with a sly grin. Links ears burned guiltily as he reached into his belt pouch and withdrew the shimmering blue stone that was Girahims earring. “Don’t worry,” He said catching Links guilty look, “I left it for you. Something of a token, I suppose, though its real power I doubt you will have guessed.” He closed Links hand over the gem as the boy continued to look quizzically at him. He closed both of his hands around Links wrists and instructed him to do the same, with his right hand still clasping the stone tightly. “I need to show you something.” He said as the air around them thickened. “Hold on.” His voice sounded distant and echoing. Links eyes widened as their bodies rose off of the ground. Girahim smiled across from him, and in a burst of diamonds, they both disappeared.  
In a flash of light, Link felt his feet hit solid ground. He opened his eyes and could see Girahim materialize across from him. He felt him release his wrists, and he looked around, trying to ascertain where he was. They were in a forest, and the sun was beginning to dip below the trees, casting long shadows across a small clearing. Birds sang their evening chorus from the high branches, and the grass shimmered with beads of dew. He squinted in the low light beyond Girahims left shoulder and his eyes suddenly widened.  
  
“We’re in Faron Woods…” He stated, although it came out in more of a questioning tone. True enough, the Forest Temple rose behind Girahim, the last rays of the sun illuminating the bright white stone structure.  
  
“Yes,” Girahim began slowly as he himself turned about, “It will surprise you to learn that this wood was once my home. Right here in this very clearing, stood my village…long ago.” A touch of sadness hung in his voice. Link looked around in shock. He wasn’t sure what he had expected to hear, but it wasn’t that. He had a hard time picturing the land’s deadliest villain running about under the bright afternoon sun, playing at swords and laughing with other children.  
  
“What happened here?” Link said slowly. Girahim turned and began to walk away from him, through the clearing towards a path beyond them. He did not immediately answer Links question.  
  
“Come.” He said, “There is more you must see.” Link hesitated as Girahim continued to walk slowly toward the darkening forest path. He knew where that path lead; The Sealed Grounds. He suddenly felt on edge. Was this some extravagant plot to corner him alone and…Link swallowed hard.  
“No tricks…” Girahim called over his shoulder as if he could read Links thoughts, “You have my word.” Link hurried after him, his feet swishing in the long grass.  
They emerged presently out onto a great precipice that overlooked The Sealed Grounds. The temple lay some distance to the right. Link stood at Girahims side as they both peered into the great chasm below. The stone seal that held Demise smoked menacingly at the center of the pit. Girahim finally broke the silence;  
“It’s strange to think that the land you now call ‘Skyloft’ was once a part of this land. As I am sure the old woman has told you, your beloved Sky Temple rested just here….” He gestured into the abyss. “I was but a small child then, in the days Demise first came to power. His armies began ransacking the smaller villages, and the elders along with this land’s devine protector, Faron, agreed that this place would serve as the final refuge for the Goddess’ people as they fled from Demise and his hordes. On the night they came for us, my mother and father and I found ourselves fleeing our homes before the onslaught of another attack…down this very path…” He turned to stare back up the dark and deserted hollow that lead from the forest. “We were accompanied by many families, all with the same purpose; to arrive here where we had been promised protection. It was here that Demise made his first move against The Goddess and her people. I remember well beholding his monstrous form beyond those very cliffs.” He pointed across the canyon to the far side. A beam of sunlight still shone against opposite wall of the pit, moving steadily upward as the sun sank ever lower. Link strained his ears with rapt attention; he couldn’t believe what he was hearing. “His armies continued to close in on us from behind, and in the chaos I was separated from my mother and father. I was nearly trampled as everyone scrambled for their lives. The sheer madness of it all…you have no idea…” He trailed off in barely more than a whisper. “Suddenly, she was there…The Goddess herself. I remember thinking, ‘surely she’s come to save us.’ I scrambled back to this spot here, where we now stand, looking desperately for any sign of my mother and father, but it was too late. A great shield, conjured by the all-merciful Goddess had separated me from my parents; dividing hundreds of families.” Girahims voice cracked with anger as he continued; “Her pathetic, last-ditch effort to preserve her people cost many thousands their lives that night.” He spat as silent tears leaked from the corners of his eyes. “Thus, the land of Skyloft and its surrounding islands were created.” He paused to draw a deep breath. He did not bother to wipe away his tears. “There were skirmishes here on the surface, even after The Goddess managed to lock Demise away. Perhaps I even took a little comfort in knowing that she herself was reduced to practically nothing in the process.” Girahim muttered darkly. “Demise still had followers, and they were hunting down the Goddess’ agents. They came for me, even in the sky. I was lying hidden on a small island called The Isle of Songs. I was a mere child at the time, but they took me along with a slew of others; including your Zeldas friend, Impa; back to the surface. A powerful priest and ally of Demise’s known as ‘Zant’ tortured us for information. The Triforce was still hidden, and Demise needed it in order to return to power. It was suspected at the time, and is still strongly suspected today that the Triforce lies hidden somewhere above the clouds.” Girahim crossed his arms and turned his eyes toward the heavens. “On the day I was set to be executed, the spirit of Demise visited me in my cell. He questioned me about my parents. He asked why I remained silent…why I was so hell-bent on protecting the entity responsible for their deaths? At the time, his words burned within me, and I began to listen. He made promises to me; he even told me he would be able to bring my parents back from death upon his return to power. The notion is obviously ludicrous, but it stuck with me then. It drove me, and my hatred for the Goddess grew as my desire to please Demise became stronger. Zant began to teach me how to strategize, how to be patient, and how to use others to get what I wanted. I learned the sword from Demise’s servants; Demise himself blessed me with strong magical powers, and strength. I became almost completely inhuman; warped and twisted according to Demise’s grand design for an ultimate weapon.”  
Link couldn’t contain himself;  
  
“Your parents wouldn’t have wanted this for you.” He blurted out. “You’ve been punishing the wrong person…punishing yourself for far too long. Demise forced The Goddess’ hand…can’t you see he is the one who deserves to die? Then we would both have our revenge…” He breathed heavily as he grew silent once more. Girahim smiled lightly at the outburst.  
  
“I wish it were that simple. Thanks to you I have entertained many thoughts on the subject, but there is something else.” His face hardened again as went on; “As Demise’s strength grew, word came to him of a girl above the clouds; a girl with an iron will, and perhaps the strength to oppose him. He decided to begin initiating his plans then, and he called Zant and myself to him…in this very clearing.” He gazed downward with a grimace. “He wished to bestow a great gift on me. I had become quite powerful, and had been instrumental in returning his strength, rallying his forces. He wished to thank me. I remember Zant walking towards me with a great, black sword lying across his palms. Demise told me when the time was right, he would call on me by way of this weapon…and together…we would rule the world. He bound me to him that day…claiming that I was his greatest creation…his right hand…”Girahims voice was barely more than a whisper now, and Link strained his ears to catch every word. “In reality, I became his slave. And now, whether by my will or not, I am bound to his fate.” Girahim looked over at Link, who fought to keep his face even, though inside he was close to bursting. “In the same way that your Fi serves The Master Sword of The Goddess…I must also serve my master.” His dark eyes held an endless sadness. Link stared back open-mouthed, trying to process everything he had just heard. If what Girahim said was true, he would be forced to obey Demise even if he desired otherwise. Link knew something of the oath that bound Fi to his own sword. It was an ancient magic…not easily broken…but there had to be a way, Link thought furiously.  
  
“There must be some other way…” Link thought aloud. His eyes flashed at Girahim, who gave him a half-smile.  
  
“I do admire your courage Link, but I don’t see how.” He replied in a morose whisper.  
  
“We will find a way…I will think of something…” Link wore on, more confidently than he felt. He would not, could not, allow all hope to fade now that Girahim was showing some sign of favor. He reached out his hand and took Girahims. “Let me try to help you.” He whispered gently. Lord Girahims smile flickered and he nodded jerkily.  
  
“Nothing deters you, does it boy?” He turned to face Link, smiling at the look of sheer determination on his face.  
  
“I’m the chosen hero…” Link answered a touch sarcastically. Girahims smile widened. He slid his hand into Links belt pouch and removed the small blue earring again; pressing it into Links palm. He closed his fingers around it. He took Links wrists once again and he felt the ground melting away from under him once more. The woods around them began to spin and a bright light engulfed them from all sides. He barely glimpsed Girahims body disappearing in a sea of black and gold diamonds before he squeezed his eyes shut.  
  
Once again, as the blinding light faded, Link felt hard ground under his feet. Girahim appeared opposite him, and this time he didn’t let go of his wrists. Link stared around at his new surroundings. He was in a bedchamber, multi-colored carpets adorned the sandstone floor and murals of hunting scenes and runes in strange languages stretched along the washed walls. His heart skipped a beat; he must be in Girahims bed chamber.  
Girahim watched with a smile as the boy took in his surroundings, watched the comprehension dawn on his face as his big blue eyes settled once again upon His. Neither of them spoke. Girahim twisted the boys arms gently behind him as he stepped forward, taking his lips deeply again. With his tongue, he drew a line from one side of his jaw to the other, and down his neck. Links shoulders and chest heaved as he strained against Girahims binding arms. The Demon smiled against his skin. Just them. Just one moment in time. Nothing else existed. Slowly he backed away from the boy, a mischievous smile on his face. Links eyes widened as he realized his arms remained bound behind him, caught in invisible restraints. Girahim circled behind him, leaning close to brush his ear with his lips.  
  
“Are you ready for your next lesson?” He crooned into Links ear. The boy shivered magnificently.  
  
“Show me…” He whispered in a voice dripping with desire.


	7. Stolen Moments

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Smut warning!

Girahim circled back to face him, and raised his hand. He snapped his fingers, and the Goddess Sword, his shield, and tool belt unbuckled themselves in fast motion and zoomed to the side of the room. Links breath caught, and Girahims smile deepened. He didn’t think he would ever lose his enjoyment for games. The reactions of the other person were eighty percent of the fun. He snapped his fingers again. Links hat, tunic and mail sailed in a heap over to where his equipment already rested. His chest rose and fell deeply as he breathed open-mouthed at Girahim. His muscular chest was adorned with various puckered scars, most of which did not look very old. Girahim swooped forward, planting soft kisses along each one. As he drew lower, he came to a crouch on one knee until he was level with the crotch of Links breeches. He gazed breathlessly up into the boys face, Links eyes were closed and his head was back. The Demon snaked his long arms around Links buttocks, and squeezed, pulling his hips forward. He nipped him delicately between the legs before springing away. He watched as Link stumbled slightly before he could catch himself again. His eyes locked onto Girahim; practically begging for him.  
  
“Have you had enough Skychild, or are you hungry for more?” Girahim raised his hand a third time. He could see the boy hardening within his trousers. He could feel his own member throbbing painfully against the tight fabric of his breeches. He took that as a yes and snapped his fingers again. “My, my…” He sighed yearningly, “You are ready…” He licked his lips as his eyes drank in Links smooth, naked body. It was beginning to take a great effort on his own part to restrain himself. Girahim swept forward once more, his own tunic and cape disappearing at will.  
Link could barely stand as his body tensed and tingled. He could feel Girahims eyes devouring his nakedness. He didn’t even feel ashamed as the blood surged between his legs. The Demon was striding back to him, his own tunic gone. Links eyebrows rose slightly; Girahims body was normally clad in skin-tight fabrics, but there was something new and inviting about his bare skin showing. He locked his lips with Links, who longed to use his arms again; to run his hands over every crest and curve of Girahims magnificent body. He released his mouth, and placing the tip of his tongue to links chest, he drew a wet line that snaked its way down over his belly…and…  
  
“Aaaagh! Ahhhh!” Link panted, writhing against his invisible bonds as Girahims mouth closed around his shaft. His knees felt as if they were about to give way. The Demon smiled up at him, wrapping his serpentine tongue around the base of Links cock as he continued to swirl and suckle. Link had never felt anything like this in his entire life. His vision blurred as he groaned and grunted.  
  
Girahim smiled delightedly to himself. The boy’s inexperience turned him on almost as much as his physical body. He thrust his hips uncontrollably as Girahim sucked hard on him. He could feel a small damp pool against his own inner thigh and he quickly disappeared his tight breeches. He pulled away as the boy twitched and bucked. He wasn’t going to last very long at this rate, but Lord Girahim prided himself in patience…and patient he would be. He stood, and snapped his fingers a fourth time, releasing the boys arms. Link sagged forward into him and Girahim caught his elbows. Both mens’ sweaty chests collided as Link locked his Lips onto Girahims. Slowly, he began to guide the boys arms. One hand he directed up the side of his face, breaking away to kiss his palms before returning to devour his lips again. The other hand, Girahim guided down between his own thighs, closing the boys fingers over his erection. He felt Links sweat-dampened forhead drop to his shoulder as he began to pump his fist over his cock. Girahim removed his own fingers as Links continued independently. He twined his hand into the boys sandy hair and craned his head back, brushing his lips back and forth across his sweaty face. He was doing very well, Girahim thought blissfully as the boy thumbed the tip of his throbbing member. Girahim grunted deeply as a stream of pre-cum dripped down between Links fingers and he slid his hand back down, smearing the fluid over his shaft. Girahim lowered his hand back to grasp Links, drawing it up to his lips. With his long tongue, he licked Links fingers, one by one.  
Link breathed heavily as Girahim took his hand and led him to the huge four-poster in the center of the chamber. Link had no idea what to expect. It was all he could do not to cum too early. He didn’t want to seem like too much of an amateur. Girahim pulled him close as they drew near the foot of the bed and kissed him again.  
  
“Do you trust me?” He said in a throaty whisper, looking deep into Links eyes. Link shivered, breathless as he stared back. He wasn’t sure Girahim realized the gravity of this simple question. For Link, it held more meaning than just what simply occurred between them here and now.  
  
“Yes.” Link whispered back. The Demon turned Link so that his chest was now pressed into his backside and planted kisses over his shoulders, twining his fingers playfully in Links own. He could feel his tongue traveling down his spine. He felt Girahim press his shoulders forward, bending him over the edge of the bed. Suddenly, Link felt Girahims lips brush his bottom; he bit off a yell of surprise as he felt his tongue slide between the cheeks of his buttocks. The sensation disturbed him at first, color shot to Links cheeks as he fought a strong desire to clench. He breathed deeply through his nose, willing himself to relax as Girahim pleasured him. Slowly he felt himself growing hard again as Girahim pressed his tongue against his opening. He had never even pleasured himself this way. This felt wonderful. Girahim suddenly pulled away and hugged Link back into his chest.  
  
“You know you need only ask, and I can stop at any time.” Girahim whispered huskily into his ear. Link leaned his head back, his mind set.  
  
“No.” He stammered, “I want you. I trust you.” Girahim nipped his ear and pushed him forward once more against the mattress.  
  
Girahim brought his fingers to Links lips and inserted them into his mouth, swabbing the inside of his cheek. He brought the warm fluid to his hardened cock and swiped it along his shaft. He lowered his own mouth once again over the small, puckered center of Links rear and pressed his tongue again to his tight opening. The boy’s ‘mmmms’ and ahhhhhs’ of pleasure filled his ears as he continued to massage the entrance with his tongue. He felt Link begin to relax, his reflexes calming. Girahim straightened, and pressed the head of his cock inside. Links back immediately arched and he threw his head back with a cry. Girahim slid his hand between Links legs and grasped his shaft; he was still hard. Girahim slid slowly deeper into him, and began to stroke him simultaneously as he ground his hips into links backside.  
Link squeezed his eyes shut and threw both hands in front of him. He fought to stay conscious as stars danced in his vision. His head swam with euphoria as he felt Girahim sliding in and out of him. He no longer felt pain, as was his initial reaction. What he felt was unexplainable; a super-heated intensity that pulsated within him as he and Girahim moved together in the darkness. Waves of exhilaration undulated inside his body, making him feel light-headed and dizzy. His body shuddered, his groin pulsated as Girahims hand stimulated him, bringing him close to elation. He could hear Girahim grunting behind him, his cries growing louder as he neared his own passionate release. He grasped handfuls of the linen bedsheet, unable to stifle his gasps and moans as the throbbing euphoria within him threatened to split him in two. His body spasmed uncontrollably as he climaxed. He could hear Girahims strangled grunts from behind him, feel a hand grip his shoulder as he thrust deeper. He felt warm liquid seep into him as Girahim came hard inside him.  
Gasping, Girahim slumped over Links backside. He removed his hand, sticky with cum and wiped it hurriedly on the bedsheet. He placed gentle kisses upon Links back before pulling out of him with a gasp. He felt the boy tense as his softening length slid wetly from within him. Girahim lowered his lips over Links slightly gaping entrance and sucked, drawing the remainder of fluid out and swallowing deeply. Breathing hard, he rolled onto his back next to the boy, his eyes closed. He felt an arm slide across his chest, followed by Links warm body as he snuggled close. Neither man said a word.


	8. Confluence

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you to those of you who are following this story, thank you for bearing with the somewhat redundant in-game cut scenery, there’s an delicious twist brewing in this section that I hope you will all enjoy ;)

Chapter 8  
Girahim gasped aloud, a sharp intake of breath catching in his throat, his head ringing. He tried to gulp a few slow, steady breaths as nightmarish images faded from his head. He had been back in that wood on the night Demise had attacked. He had struggled up the slope toward the gleaming wall, only to find Link trapped on the other side. He squeezed his eyes shut and brought a hand to his throbbing temples. When had things become so complicated? He looked down at the soft, sun-kissed arm stretched across his chest. He followed its muscular curvature until his eyes beheld the young man beside him. Links eyes were closed, though they twitched restlessly every now and then. Did the boy also dream? His chest rose and fell peacefully, his sandy hair was still sticky with dried sweat and lay in a messy but charming way about his face. He must be utterly exhausted. Girahim couldn’t help it as a small, roguish smile crept onto his lips. He reached a hand over and brushed a lock of hair with gentle fingers. Turning away he slowly swung his legs over the side of the bed and rubbed his brow again. Link stirred but did not wake up. What in the hell was he doing…and what was he going to do now? Girahim had already put both of them at serious risk by bringing the boy here. ‘Put him at risk, have you?’ that little voice teased, ‘Isn’t that your purpose?’ Girahims face contorted; he didn’t know what he was doing anymore. He was flying blind in uncharted territory. He couldn’t kill the boy willingly, of that he was now certain. He had become a miserable, tender-hearted moron. There could be no happily-ever-after for him, regardless of the boy’s determination to somehow destroy Demise’s spell. There was only one way to un-do that magic that Girahim knew of and it was completely out of the question. That left two options: Link would defeat Demise and Girahim himself would be all but destroyed, reduced to nothing much more than a memory. Cursed to living out a sort of half-life, bound within the sword and likely sealed away for eternity…or until a new master declared himself. In the second scenario…Girahim shut his eyes…he could no longer picture himself having any part in the alternative. He heard movement behind him as the coverlet slid back; he felt Links weight shift upon the mattress as he slung his legs upon either side of The Demon, pressing himself into his back. His body was warm and calming. Girahim leaned his head back, his thoughts returning gladly to the present. Link slid his arms around his hard, muscular chest. For a long moment, neither of them said anything.  
  
“I know what it is you’re thinking about.” Link murmured into Girahims shoulder.  
  
“Discovered the power of mind-reading, have you?” Girahim mocked without opening his eyes.  
  
“I meant what I said before. This doesn’t have to end for you….for us…” He trailed off, the last bit in barely more than a whisper. “There must be a way to unravel Demise’s spell. I intend to find it.” He said with the self-assuredness of one explaining that one and one made two. Girahim smirked.  
  
“You certainly aren’t lacking in resolve…and I admire your pluck, but I stand by what I said before…” Girahim faltered a bit, his head lowering, eyes staring at his knees. “Even now…even as I have resolved not to impede you willingly…you must know that I still pose a threat to you.”  
  
“I’m not asking for your help.” Link said. He would find a way with or without him. He wasn’t going to give up no matter what Girahim said. How could he? He was too involved now. He cared too much. Was this what being in love was like? What a mess. “I think…” He continued in a low voice, “I think I can defeat Demise…and save you, too.” He finished awkwardly. The words seemed strange coming from him even now. If someone had told him before he started out that he would fall in love with a demon lord and take upon the task of his salvation, he would have laughed out loud. It was almost laughable now. He had absolutely no idea how to accomplish his plan, but he would figure that out later. Right now, he needed some shred of hope to cling to; he needed to make Girahim believe there was some alternative. Link had the sneaking suspicion on more than one occasion that The Demon could read minds, and this theory was further tested as Girahim swiveled in front of him, squeezing Link’s knees almost painfully;  
  
“I assure you, boy, if there was another way I would know of it.” He said with a finality in his voice that made Link shrink back. Girahim puffed a great sigh and stood. Snapping his fingers, a sheer robe of white linen snaked its way around his body, draping his arms in billowing sleeves embroidered with a rich thread-of-gold. Link watched levelly as he strode to the balcony and leaned against a large pillar. “You don’t have to save everyone, you know. I have not asked to be saved.” His tone held a chill, and he let the words sting. The boy had his mission; he would do what he had to, not waste his time on some fool’s errand. Lord Girahim berated himself internally for letting things go this far. It would be in the boy’s best interests to put as much distance between himself and Girahim as was possible. Demise could…no…would still use him to hurt the boy. The Demon swallowed a hard lump in his throat, his face set. He may no longer have the will to kill him, but he could still hurt him; hurt him…to save him.  
Link watched Girahim carefully as he crossed his arms and gazed out over the endlessness of the desert. It wasn’t yet dawn but a warm, blue and gold glow could be seen flooding the edge of the eastern horizon. He wasn’t going to admit Girahim was right. The man may have a vast knowledge, but he had been too long an agent of The King of Shadows. His perspective was almost certainly clouded. Link slowly rose from the mattress and padded across the room to where Girahim stood. He stopped short of him, blue eyes scanning his turned back. The robe was translucent, and Links lips flickered in a half-smile at the dark outline of perfect curves underneath. Mentally shaking himself, he straightened;  
  
“You can say whatever you like to make yourself feel better…” Link began in what he hoped was a confident tone, “I’d like to think that whatever thread of fate has brought us together doesn’t fray here…” He fought to keep his voice steady and direct; Girahims eyes flickered over his shoulder in a half-glance. “You can push me away, or push me aside…if I really am nothing more to you than a fantasy.” He broke off realizing how hard he was breathing.  
Damn the boy, and damn himself for a fool, Girahim thought resentfully. He didn’t understand. Link went on before he could say anything, taking it a step further;  
“It’s not admitting you need help that scares you, is it? It’s admitting that if we actually found a way, that you would…somehow…be undeserving of a different life.” Link almost immediately wished he had those words back. He had struck a nerve. He was level with Girahim now and he could see The Demon’s jaw clenching furiously, the tension between them thick. He turned his dark eyes slowly toward Link and straightened, a glimmer of his old self. Link almost stepped back before catching himself.  
  
“Well done, Sky-prince. You have me all figured out now, don’t you?” He spat bitterly.  
Link fought to keep his breathing even, suddenly wishing he had more clothes on.  
  
“I think we leave things here for now.” He continued darkly. “You have much to prepare for.” Girahim snapped his fingers once, and Links clothing, sword and utility pouches re-covered his body as though on fast-forward. “The crystal?” He muttered, stalking forward and whirling his large sleeves back to reveal his bare forearms. All the while, his eyes remained on Links, studying any reaction he might give, but he set his face and forced a lid upon his emotions. If Girahim wanted to behave like an arrogant idiot, he wasn’t going to give him the satisfaction of any hurt feelings. Link dug out the crystal, squeezing it until his palm hurt. Girahim took his forearms roughly and only then did he close his eyes as a whirl of black and gold enveloped them. Link forced his own eyes to stay open as long as possible as his feet left the floor of the chamber, the room revolving as their bodies disintegrated into nothingness.  
Link slowly opened his eyes as he felt the familiar sensation of his body re-materializing in space. The familiar scene of his own room blurred into view as the roiling cloud of black and gold diamonds churned and spun around him. He felt his feet touchdown upon his embroidered carpets. Amidst the tumult of the continuously heaving waves of black and gold he could just make out Girahims face. The Demon’s body did not manifest, only his face remained, which continued to stare into Links. There was something in his eyes…a great sadness, pain, agitation, regret…Link felt rather than saw his forearms being squeezed firmly before Girahim released them, his face beginning to fade back into the torrent in which they came.  
  
“Wait…please…” Link pleaded somewhat half-heartedly.  
  
“Goodbye Sky-child.” Link could have sworn the corners of his mouth flickered in a half-smile before he was gone.  
Link realized that he was still holding his arms up as though Girahim still grasped them and he let them flop to his sides with a dejected sigh. What a predicament. He had to find a way, now more than ever. He didn’t want to think about what life would be like without Girahim in it. He was certainly the most pompous, flamboyant, over-grown butterfly Link had ever met…and he loved him. He could no more deny it now than he could deny himself air. Link knew why Girahim was so angry. He had never known a life without Demise; he had never known a life free from slavery. Link knew the concept must have exhilarated and thrilled him with possibilities, yet frightened him to his very core. On a smaller scale, Link felt the exact same way about their budding connection. Link also knew Girahim wouldn’t want to get his hopes up when the chance of success seemed so slim. He stuffed the gem roughly back into his belt pouch, wincing finally at the impressions it had left in his palm. The Goddess had made him the bloody hero, and he wasn’t going to throw in the towel because some arrogant, self-pitying lord couldn’t overcome his angst. The problem now remained…he wasn’t sure where to start or who to ask about ancient magic spells and how to go about breaking them. He cast about the room as though the answer would spring out of his wardrobe or from under the bed. Suddenly, he clapped his hand to his head with a “Hah!” of surprise. It was so simple…of course…  
  
“Fi,” he called over his shoulder; with a gentle twinkling, like that of a wind chime, the sword deity appeared in an arc of purple to hover before him.  
  
“You called for me master?” She asked in her sing-song voice. “Are you ready to open the portal to reach the Thunderhead?” This was indeed the next step in his journey. He needed to find the sacred flames in order to return the Goddess Sword to its former glory and re-awaken the second Gate of Time. His cheeks colored and he shuffled his feet a bit guiltily, he had not told Girahim of the gate. With the threat of Demise’s control over his mind, Link couldn’t risk it, but it felt strange to not be able to trust him fully. He stuffed that thought away and continued;  
  
“Er, no…not just yet anyway. I have a different question; a sort of personal one, I suppose.” He broke off awkwardly as Fi looked blankly back at him. He hadn’t realized before the similarities between she and Girahim, but they were there. The angular cut of their fine clothing, smooth flawless skin, and the diamond gem set into Fi’s breast was almost identical to the one that Girahim wore at his waist save for the color. But, more importantly they were both sword spirits. He chose his next words a bit more carefully; he didn’t feel like explaining his feelings for Girahim, or what he intended to do just yet.  
“I wanted to ask you about how you came to reside within this sword.” His eyes met her jewel-like gaze. She hesitated a moment, and then replied;  
  
“The Goddess used a very old magic to bind me to this blade. The sacred flames you must now seek, once provided the power for the spell used to unite me eternally with the Master Sword. That is the reason we must return to them. During the first war with Demise, my power was greatly diminished. The energy required to seal him away sapped the strength of the sacred flames from within the blade. Once restored, it will once again hold the power to defeat him.” Her musical voice washed over him like a flood. She thought his question was directed at their next mission…he let it go. Perhaps it worked in his favor that way. Another question tumbled out of his mouth before he could stop himself;  
  
“You’re bound to protect the sword...and to defend the one who wields it?”  
  
“Yes. It is against my programming to harm, or allow to be harmed, whether by accident or design, the Master Sword or yourself.” She finished contritely. Link’s stomach clenched unpleasantly. Girahim had warned Link that he was still a threat by way of Demise’s power over him. He pushed that unpleasant thought aside and went on;  
  
“Have you ever thought…about your freedom?” Link asked warily. If Fi thought this question odd, she gave no sign of it.  
  
“I am not designed to dwell on such human emotions, master. The Goddess has given me a purpose. I will serve it until I am no longer needed.”  
  
“You mean, once you have fulfilled your duty, and the war is over, you won’t simply be released from the spell that ties you to the sword?” He purposefully added a bit of shock and awe to this question. He didn’t want Fi to decide that he was prying into matters that didn’t really concern him.  
  
“The Goddess will need someone to guard the sword, even in times of peace, master. It would not do for the Master Sword to fall into the wrong hands. Even should I desire what you call ‘freedom’, only the rightful owner of the blade holds the power to release me. The Goddess knows as I do that my destiny lies with the sword. For that reason, she will hold me to my oath.”  
Links knees gave way beneath him. His head spun, his insides turned over. The flames held the power to wield the old magic…the rightful owner of the sword…for Girahim that would mean Demise. Link scraped his hands through his hair wracking his brain. He needed time to think. He also needed to keep his wits about him, he still had a job to do. Zelda still needed him. For the first time in his life, his heart felt torn in two.  
  
“Give me a few minutes, Fi, and I will be ready. I…thank you.” He continued to stare at his carpets, her eyes could have burned holes in his back.  
  
“Yes master.” With another metallic twinkle, she disappeared once more into the hilt of the Master Sword.  
  
Meanwhile…  
  
The Demon Lord Girahim stumbled forward in a flash of diamonds. He was back in his bed chamber. His hands found the edge of his four-poster and he leaned upon the mattress for a moment trying to steady his breathing. A familiar scent filled his nostrils, and he grasped handfuls of the linen coverlet, sinking down to sit upon the floor. He inhaled deeply, closing his eyes, lost in his memories of the previous night’s exertions. No, he thought bitterly, releasing the fabric; it was better this way. Yet, even now…he longed to hold him again. He was being utterly foolish. He tilted his head back, stretching his legs out before him. It wasn’t just magically going to be sunshine and rainbows no matter what Girahim wanted. His fate was sealed, there was no other choice. The boy had only been trying to make him feel better, but it was time to stop living in fantasy-land.  
  
“A wise choice.” A familiar voice grated. Girahim started to his feet, his stomach jumping into his throat. The air thickened around Girahim and he felt his arms snap to his sides by an invisible energy. Abruptly he was sent reeling into the far wall, smashing painfully into it, his face shoved roughly against the stone. “I warned you once, Girahim.” The voice of Demise crackled with an intense hate that seemed to fill the room. The disembodied force was pressing his head so hard into the wall, he thought it might burst like a melon.  
  
“Your grace,” He spluttered, “if I may…” His shoulders heaved desperately, his arms still clasped to his sides.  
  
“You have failed me for the last time. I have no need for your pathetic excuses.” Suddenly the weight behind Girahims head was lifted, and he was thrown instead to the floor tiles. He raised his head, tasting blood. The great, seething blackness of his master, still unable to take his true form, loomed above him. “I shall simply have to keep a closer watch on you from now on.” Girahims eyes widened, and he shrank backward. Boiling madly, the thick, oily cloud formed itself into a great serpent. Its fangs flashing wickedly as it lashed its tongue, poised to strike. “Such an honor it will be, to now have my full, undivided attention all to yourself.” Girahims head jerked in horror. He scrabbled backward desperately, until his back hit the wall. He cowered as the serpent let out a slow hiss.  
  
“Master, please….” He pleaded futilely. With a crack, the snake launched itself straight toward Girahims chest. He reeled, his body contorting wildly as he screamed. A pain unlike any he had ever experienced racked him from head to toe. Bent backward, he howled, tears streaming from his eyes. “NOOOOOOO!!!!!” He pitched forward onto the floor tiles as the tip of the serpent’s tail disappeared within him. He lay there, gasping and shaking, his insides burning as though he’d been turned inside out.  
  
“You will not fail me…” A foreboding whisper echoed in Girahims head. He raised himself to his hands and knees. He wasn’t sure he could stand even if he had wanted to. He continued to draw deep, shuddering breaths, willing himself to keep his thoughts calm and even. In that moment, he locked away his memories of the boy; there was no need for Demise to know any more than he already did.  
  
“What would you have me do, master?”


	9. A Soul in Chains

Instead of returning into the depths of The Goddess sword as she was so often accustomed to, Fi allowed her mind to wander, searching…searching for him. She didn’t quite understand what caused her to worry over Link so; the mere concept seemed archaic, like a long lost memory. The very possession of such a human emotion concerned her. But humans could be careless, and she feared for the boy’s resolution, and the important task at hand; he could not afford to become distracted. She had sensed a change in The Demon Lords aura. She could feel Links reactions to him when they were close…something she couldn’t quite conjure a word for. She needed to know more about this unique bond if they were to succeed in their mission. Was it somehow crucial to its completion? She had her suspicions, but she needed to see him with her own eyes. Fi cleared her mind of thoughts and questions, drifting along the edge of conscious and unconscious…reaching out with her mind…slowly she felt herself dissolving utterly in a swirl of thought and color as the scenery of the present drifted slowly away. She opened her gem-like eyes as her toes touched softly down upon a strange yet familiar surface. She had traversed this parallel world, The Purgatory of the Guardians many times in her long sleep within The Master Sword in the days before Link had reclaimed the blade. A glittering mirror of water stretched endlessly before her, surrounded on all sides by a sea of infinite blackness. Her feet merely rippled the surface as she stepped forward, her booted toes remaining dry. Her ears strained for any sound, aside from the gentle, wet swish of water as the platform beneath her feet ebbed and flowed. She squinted in the lowlight at a point far in the distance. Her eyes could just make out the shape of a bright white figure, its arms suspended limply above its head. She glided forward along the undulating surface. As she drew level with the being, she could see thick manacles holding its wrists. Its head drooped limply between its shoulders, its knees folded beneath it. Its shoulders rose and fell as it drew deep, ragged breaths. Without lifting his head, Girahim spoke;  
  
“Not to be rude, but I’m not really in the mood for entertaining.” He growled into the rippling surface beneath him. Fi cocked her head to the side. This was certainly not the state she had intended to find him in. It changed things…His clothes and fine jewelry had all been stripped from him, and he cowered like a wretched animal before her.  
  
“It is as I feared.” She began, the usual musical monotony gone from her voice. “It seems Demise is willing to go to any length to stop the boy. Even so far as to destroy his one, true ally.”  
  
“If you’ve come here to scold me, you can save your breath, Goddess-witch; a little peace from your insufferable yammering seems almost as worthwhile a wish as the return of my beautiful clothes...” He growled, turning a cold glare on her jewel-tone face, but she merely raised her chin, considering him thoughtfully for a long moment before she spoke again;  
  
“I’ve sensed a change in you Girahim.” She said blatantly. “It is no accident you reside here in this way.” He rolled his eyes, his head flopping back toward the glittering surface of his prison. “If you truly…how do I say…care for the boy…” His head snapped up again, contorting in a hateful grimace. He strained against the chains that held his arms. She had struck a chord.  
  
“You listen to me, you hateful, Goddess-drooling brat, if you think for one moment you know anything about me or what I’ve been through…” He began in a vicious snarl, trailing off as he seemed to realize his temper had gotten the better of him. “You can go back to that whorehouse you came from and rot in an eternity of darkness, witch.” He spat, not taking his black eyes off of her cool blue ones. What difference did his feelings make now? There was nothing he could do to help the boy…and nothing he could do to stop Demise.  
  
“You have always possessed such a hot temper, Girahim…it certainly does get you into trouble, as it has become inherently clear that you do indeed harbor some feelings still beneath that cold, impenetrable exterior.” A small smile tweaked the corner of her lips. “I predict…” She began in something of a mocking tone, “with 100% accuracy that you are in no condition to stave me off, therefore it would behoove you, and the boy, to listen to what I have to say.” She leaned forward, regarding him with a penetrating stare.  
  
“What, pray tell, do you propose?” He muttered into the floor, flexing his wrists uselessly.  
  
“I find it interesting that your master has elected to chain you here when we both know very well that there is much more than a rusted hunk of iron binding you to this place.” She continued in an obvious tone, as though he were supposed to somehow guess what the hell she was talking about.  
  
“Ouch. Hitting me where it hurts…” He grated. She continued as though he had not spoken, drifting around instead to stare out at the blackness that surrounded them.  
  
“I have come to know this world very well. I have spent many long years here, Girahim. The only reason one would have for chains here would be to contain not only the body, but the mind. I find it therefore ironic that a set of restraints such as this, whos original intent is to confine the body, are being used instead to separate the free will of your mind from your real-world body.” Her glimmering smile deepened as a flicker of realization creased his brow. Slowly, his eyes drew upward. She could sense a spark of purpose from within. “Now that I have your undivided attention, do you wish to continue to hear my proposal? Or have I made a horrible mistake in coming here, hoping that you could ever be persuaded—“  
  
“Do you ever tire of hearing your own voice?” He broke in suddenly.  
  
“You are one to talk.” She replied levelly. He gritted his teeth.  
  
“Go on then…”  
  
“Drawing from what I know of this place, it can indeed be reached from a conscious state of being, but not by your conscious state of being…not now. Now, when my master succeeds in confronting Demise--“  
  
“If he manages to survive long enough t--” Girahim interrupted again.  
  
“WHEN THE MOMENT COMES…” Fi rode over The Demon angrily, “You will be called to serve The Demon King as his one, true weapon.” Girahim puffed an irritated sigh. “When that happens it is my belief that a separate battle will be triggered…here…between you and I.”  
  
“Wonderful. Lets hurry on then, so that I can slit your throat and free us all from the incessant chirping that’s causing my ears to bleed.”How simply deplorable he was…  
  
“For one who holds such a high regard for manners, I find it paradoxical how little you actually possess.” She said darkly.  
  
“I’m lying chained and defenseless in a dark, parallel underworld listening to my sworn enemy’s guardian spout some undying drivel about how I can somehow still redeem myself in this utter mess of a fool’s quest. A little grace isn’t too much to ask now, is it?” His haggard face brightened, a smirk spreading on his face. She sighed before going on;  
  
“As I was saying…when that happens, a battle between you and I will precipitate here. But you will not be yourself…you will not know yourself as you do here and now. Demise will still have utter control over you during those moments. However, I believe there is a hitch that The Demon King has not counted on. A small thread that we may be able to exploit.”  
  
“You seem strangely uncertain for someone who claims to have all the answers” Girahim drawled arrogantly. Fi pressed on as if she hadn’t heard;  
  
“Now comes the good part…” She drifted close to him, raising her fingers. With a snap, The shackles holding Girahims arms disappeared. He stared wide-eyed at her as he rubbed his sore wrists. “I have just broken the bond that holds your will at bay, but rest assured your body is still trapped here, so don’t even think of running.” Her penetrating glare seemed to fill the empty tunnels of his black eyes.  
  
“Then why bother tormenting me…” He breathed. She took a deep breath, as though she had come to the point in her story that she was most excited to reveal;  
  
“When you arrive here, in the form of your sword deity, you will be under Demise’s sway, as a part of him is currently occupying your physical body, unless I miss my guess. The form standing before me now won’t recognize the form you will take as The Demon King’s guardian. You will want to defend yourself against this force. Do you understand?”  
  
“Are you saying I will be seeing another version of myself?” Girahim asked, pushing himself to standing.  
  
“In a way, yes...” Although it didn’t show in her cerulean cheeks, Fi felt a rush as he stood, completely bare before her. He grinned at her embarrassment. Insolent man-child, she thought raising her fingers again. Snap! A linen waist-robe appeared, the sashes winding themselves rapidly together.  
  
“Ouch!” He snapped as the fabric bit into his skin. “Concentrate on what you’re doing, will you?!” She merely smirked at him. “So what am I supposed to do?” He grunted, fingers attempting to loosen the sash. “Keep myself from killing myself?”  
  
“On the contrary, you and I are actually going to kill yourself.” His hands fell back to his sides at these words. He understood now. She paused for a moment, as though waiting for him to say something. When he didn’t, she broke the silence.  
“Surely you must understand it is the only way. While it won’t ensure your complete freedom, you will at least no longer be divided…you will no longer be bound here.”  
  
“No?” He laughed mockingly. “What a relief, witch, to be free of one prison only to welcome another.” He knew. Too much of his body and soul were now bound by Demise, beyond his control. The destruction of Demise would mean the destruction of his external form which would mean severance from his physical body…perhaps forever.  
  
“Would you prefer to live as a wretched slave for the remainder of eternity? Either way, when my master defeats Demise, the way forward is bleak for you. At least this way, your life can have meaning again. You can rest peacefully…freely…and know that the boy if safe. Surely, that at least matters to you.” She broke off gently as he turned his back to her. Link. He knew what this division of his soul must be costing the boy…somewhere in another world. This might be his only way to help him…he tilted his head back, considering.  
  
“Will I ever see him? See the boy again?” The words came awkwardly from his lips as though drawn out forcefully. Fi cocked her head at his back. He certainly had changed.  
  
“I cannot make an accurate prediction on that point.” She whispered. He sighed, turning back to her.  
  
“Well…I’ll be here then…perhaps knitting a sweater.” He gave her a wry grin.  
  
Later…

Link gave a start as the gate of the large, damp chamber he had stepped into slammed shut behind him. Great. How very typical. His eyes narrowed as he crept forward. The chamber was carved from floor to ceiling in a scalloped pattern of rough stone. Water dripped from the walls, and huge pillars rose out of sight into the endless blackness above. An eerie light filled the place. Faron had told him the first flame would be here, but not what might stand between it and himself. He ground his teeth. He wished Girahim could’ve practiced a tad more graciousness instead of forcing him to run around cleaning up his mess and finding a way to heal Faron. The dragon was almost as arrogant as The Demon. He was more than willing to help, of course, feeling guilty enough as it was; fraternizing with the enemy. He wondered what Girahim had wanted from her. Was he trying to find out where the other gate was? Suddenly a familiar chuckle sounded from the center of the room. Links eyes snapped upward, to the top of a strange looking pillar. It was plated in solid gold. There, lounging at the top was Girahim, clearly having recovered some of his old swagger. He stared fixedly at nothing in particular, lost in thought, but a smile was on his lips.  
  
“You certainly are persistent…I’m terribly busy trying to find the clues that will help me revive the demon king.” He sneered, sounding strangely as though he wished he were somewhere else. Link took a step forward, his eyes narrowing in the dim. Girahim looked tired, and worn. Not at all like his usual perfectly polished self.  
  
“You don’t owe him anything.” Link called up to Girahim. “You don’t need to do this.” Link wasn’t sure what he’d expected. He had hoped that perhaps The Demon would simply go into hiding; not really helping or hindering his master. There was definitely something different about him.  
  
“I told you before boy. You would do well to steer clear of me. I must obey my master. You’re incessant buzzing around my head like some irksome gadfly when I’m THIS busy…Well, it’s making m…my master-very disagreeable.” He stumbled. Girahim never stumbled on his words. He always knew exactly what he wanted to say and how he wanted to say it. He took great pride in his ability to pontificate so eloquently. This worried Link. There was something new and mysterious afoot. Girahim was not himself. “If you insist upon seeing this fools mission through to its completion, you cannot expect me to just stand aside. I have come too far. I have risked too much. I have suffered….” He trailed off, still carefully avoiding Links eyes. Lord Girahim tossed his head fretfully, recovering himself; “I hope you have enjoyed your time in the Cistern. I would be kidding myself if I thought even for a second my master’s next challenge for you might be your last…much as it pains me to admit, you do have some skill…” Girahim rubbed his temples with his hand. He seemed…distracted. “But, with any luck he will slow your progress enough for me find out where the next gate lies.” He raised his fingers, and with a snap he was gone. Link didn’t have time to dwell on any part of this encounter; the ground began to tremble. The gold-plated thing in the center of the room that Link had assumed was a pillar began to twitch. Small, beady red eyes blazed in its metal mask of a face. Link sighed irritably reaching for his whip…here we go again.  
  
Some time later, Link removed his cap and shook his hair vigourously, sending droplets of water flying in all directions. Travelling by water spout was decidedly not his favorite way to get around. As he raised his head, a brilliant green flame, several feet high blazed to life in a great brazier, perched upon The Goddess’ symbol, carved in stone. He walked mesmerized toward it, unsheathing his sword as he did so. So this was a part of the great power Fi spoke of. As if the thought had summoned her, Fi leapt forward to hover before the flame. She spread her wing-like arms, and as she did so, the great green flame sprang to her, enveloping her in a ball of fire. With a ferocious energy the ball ricocheted from wall to wall, coming to rest at Links feet, the flames practically lapping at his toes. The warmth felt wonderful after the never-ending dampness of the Cistern.  
“Raise your sword master.” She instructed. Link could just see her outline within the dancing inferno. Slowly he raised the blade until it hung horizontal in front of his face. Several smaller balls of fire surged forward, disappearing one by one into the sword. The blows almost made Link stagger back, but he held his ground. He could already feel a new warmth in his fingers. Suddenly he felt a white hot sensation sear the back of his hand. He turned it over, his eyes widening as a golden triangle pulsated brightly from under his glove. What did that mean? He would have to dwell more on it later. Fi hovered before him; “The sacred flame has purified your blade, enhancing and evolving it. With your sword now enhanced, you are ready to learn a new melody. We should return to the Isle of Songs.”  
  
Links head buzzed with new questions as he gripped his Loftwings feathers more tightly. The sun was dipping low on the horizon. He needed rest and time to think before returning to the Isle of Songs; the place where a child Girahim once took refuge so long ago. Link steered the bird toward Skyloft, with a strong appetite for a bowl of pumpkin soup.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I freaking loved writing Ghirahim and Fi banter xD


	10. The Weight of the World

Link sat at his small writing desk in his bed chamber, thinking. He had ducked into the dining hall before dinner and had brought his soup into his room, making excuses to Pipit and Karane that he was tired and needed sleep. He still didn’t feel much like talking about his predicament with everyone. He always did his best to assure the other knights that Zelda was still okay and that they need not worry, and he was still committed to bringing her home safely; but another life hung in the balance now. Girahim had been different at their last meeting; he was cold and distant, which wasn’t entirely abnormal, but it had seemed half-hearted, like a shadow of his old self. Link still wasn’t entirely sure what to make of that, but he was sure it couldn’t be good and likely had everything to do with Demise’s hold over him. Link pushed his empty soup bowl away and put his elbows on the desk, his head in his hands. The candle light danced and flickered, casting strange shadows about the room. He replayed Fi’s words in his head, as he had done a hundred times since speaking with her about her bond to the Master Sword. He couldn’t shake the feeling that the sacred flames held some important role in not only binding a spirit to the sword, but possibly separating it too. He turned his hand over, the golden triangle still shone brightly upon the back of it. Girahim had spoken of the Triforce; so had Headmaster Gaepora but they hadn’t explained particularly what it was. Gaepora had said it was a powerful energy source, bringing the forces of power, wisdom and courage and binding them together. It was this sacred power that once brought life to the land of Hyrule in times before Demise. Most knights at least knew that much, but no-one seemed to have any knowledge of what this sacred power was capable of. Perhaps Girahim knew, but he had never elaborated. Link wasn’t sure if he dared inquire further, given Girahim’s current state of mind. Moreover, what could the Triforce possibly have to do with Link himself? He squeezed his eyes shut, brow furrowed. The pieces were there…but they didn’t fit. Somehow, this great power used to create the very earth he stood upon, must hold the answers to helping Girahim. He pushed away from the desk with a sigh. He had two flames yet to find. Perhaps the answers would come, and he couldn’t afford to waste any more time when time wasn’t just his to waste anymore. He didn’t know how long Zelda had. What kind of time did Girahim have? It was only a matter of time before Demise found the next Gate of Time…or this puppet Girahim found it…Link shuddered and stood. He needed sleep; he did not intend to return to Skyloft anytime soon after departing once again for Lanayru tomorrow.  
  
Much later…  
  
His heart thumping very fast, Link threw his weight against the red and gold enamled doors before him. He worked unaffected by the heat around him now, but the doors were still quite heavy. He took deep breaths in though his nose and exhaled slowly, not daring to make a sound as he moved into the cavernous room before him. Huge, red-laquered pillars supported a high ceiling painted with bright murals in every color Link could have imagined. The mosaicked floor tiles flowed together in star shapes and huge circles. Link’s heart skipped a beat; several images in the great mural before him depicted great, golden clockwork mechanisms surrounded by deities. The Gate of Time. A deep chuckle echoed from within the shadows before him; his heart sank. Girahim leapt from the arch of a magnificent carved doorway within the opposite wall. Link was painfully reminded of their first meeting as The Demon Lord stood before him, a vindictive chill radiating from his pale body. He looked ragged, the dark purple shadows under his eyes seemed endless. His eyes themselves were more empty and lifeless than ever. When he spoke, it was as though another entity were providing the words; the sarcasm and mockery were there, but the tone in which they were spoken did not seem to belong to Girahim.  
  
“…Oh hello there, Link. I see you’re still among the living. Fancy meeting you here.” The timbre of his voice was different; deeper and almost robotic. “We seem to bump in to each other time and time again. It’s no coincidence, though, is it? You and I…we are indeed bound by a thread of fate.” His voice grew to a malicious whisper as he turned his head toward the ceiling. With a toss of his hair, he continued in that same lifeless tone; “Look at these old drawings! Until I found these, I was…upset about that little stunt The Goddess’ guard dog pulled at The Gate of Time. What was that twig’s name again? Impa?” Comprehension began to dawn on Link’s face at this tiny slip…Link knew for a fact that Girahim had been captured with Impa long ago; he wouldn’t have forgotten her now. This wasn’t Girahim…not entirely…it couldn’t be. Link realized his mouth was open, and he snapped it shut, his glare deepening. “Well, nevermind that, because these drawings suggest the existence of a second Gate of Time. This news has just filled my heart with rainbows!” Girahim gestured grandly at the mural with his arms wide. “I’ve been a busy boy, searching here and there and everywhere for another Gate of Time...” Sweeping around to glare at Link, he snapped his fingers, disappearing in a shower of diamonds. Link once again had the familiar sensation he was being watched as a demonic presence seemed to circulate the room. He drew his sword, casting about wildly for the moment this puppet Girahim would surely re-appear; he hoped he wouldn’t have to use it. His eyes caught movement to his right and he spun around to find Girahim perched dramatically on one knee; “…And yet, I couldn’t even find a single clue. Since I know I can be honest with you, I’ll admit I got a little sulky. It was frowns all around.” Girahim suddenly clutched at his temples with a gasp, but he quickly recovered himself, disappearing in another flurry of diamonds. Link looked around again, as The Demon reappeared this time above the archway of the door through which he had just come. His diamond patterned arms writhed as he clutched himself in apparent pain and anguish. “The thought of never getting my hands on that darling girl again was…well, more than I could bear. But then…” He suddenly swooped down toward Link, and before he could raise his sword, Girahim was behind him grasping his shoulders painfully. Link struggled to move, but it was as though an invisible vice pinned his arms to his sides. “Then I found this place.” Girahim leaned in to whisper in Links ear, but it felt wrong. His very touch felt wrong. Whereas before, he could barely stop the shudders of ecstasy that would threaten to nearly overwhelm him; now the sensation turned his stomach nauseatingly. Demise; he had to be controlling Girahim somehow…even from within? Girahim continued to squeeze Links shoulders as he went on; “The prospect of a second Gate of Time has made me positively giggly!” Link felt the invisible weight against his arms shift and he lashed out automatically, slicing towards Girahim, but his sword merely contacted a cloud of diamond afterimage as Girahim teleported away. Link looked up as Girahim materialized in front of him, throwing his arms wide and puffing out his chest. “That girl…your adorable friend…she will be instrumental in bringing about the revival of my master. And though I feared she was now quite beyond my reach, I despair no longer!” The demon threw his head back triumphantly, “…but before we talk any further on that subject, there’s still the outstanding matter of your punishment, Link. Do you remember when I told you that the next time we met, I’d make your ears bleed from the sound of your own screams?” He lowered his head, his voice now a deep growl. Links insides twisted; he didn’t want to have to kill Girahim. Shaking his head furiously, he shoved that thought away. The real Girahim had to be in there somewhere; perhaps he could just distract Demise enough… “A lot has happened between you and I since I made that promise, but I realize now what an arrogant, self-serving fool I was.” Link knew the words weren’t his own, but they still stung. “But, perhaps corporal punishment is a touch harsh…I might be willing to forgive and forget if you’ll strike a deal.” His voice grew even deeper as his eyes flashed hungrily. “All I ask is that you tell me where I can find the other Gate of Time. That’s not too much to ask is it? Oh, and don’t you play coy with me. I know that you know, so why not let me in on the fun? Don’t think for a second that your unwillingness to be honest with me after I have given you every chance has gone un-noticed.” He pointed an accusing finger at Link, and he swallowed guiltily in spite of himself. He could feel his insides burn with hate for Demise and the way he was using Girahim. It was becoming almost more than he could bear to not lash out. He nonetheless continued to scowl darkly back at the puppet demon and brought his shield forward.  
  
“You will never win, Demise…” He said levely, surprised his voice didn’t crack. “I know what it is you’re trying to do, but I see right through you.” He swung his sword to a point at Girahim and widened his stance.  
  
“Such behavior. A mischievous boy like you needs to be dealt with firmly. You may think you know everything, but I must warn you, I won’t go easy on you this time.” Girahims face contorted suddenly in that seemingly agonizing way again as his arms rose, almost unwillingly before him. Could the real Girahim still be in there, somewhere? Fighting? Link didn’t have a clue what was going to happen next. He didn’t want to have to kill this puppet, but he had sworn an oath to defeat Demise no matter what the cost. He swallowed a fresh lump in his throat and readied himself. Suddenly, an electric shock wracked Girahim. The white, diamond embellished gloves vanished from his arms and instead a deep, inky blackness coated his hands and forearms, snaking its way up his biceps almost like veins. It gave his arms a charred look. Link struggled to keep his expression even, he wasn’t about to give The Demon King the satisfaction of knowing how uncertain he was beginning to feel about all of this. “Lovely aren’t they? You will now find the supple skin of my arms tougher than any armor. Doesn’t their shape just leave you…breathless? What am I saying…” He continued, running one of his newly formed hands through his silken stark-white curtain of hair. “I rather excel in the fine art of leaving innocent man-children like yourself breathless. Behold! Such beauty!” He cried, and Link watched in horror as more inky, black veins snaked their way across Girahims face and poured down his chest beneath his diamond cut-out tunic. Link watched helplessly as Girahims body twisted and flailed as black tendrils continued to snake down his leg. “Such stunning features! Yes, I’ve pretty much got it all…wouldn’t you agree Link?” He shrieked madly. He laughed a low, guttural laugh that was not his own. Hatred surged within Link, but he fought desperately to focus. It would be just what Demise would want if he were to lash out irrationally now. Girahim relaxed his arms as he strode toward Link. “There is one teensy, tiny thing I lack…namely mercy.” The Demon Lord licked his lips grotesquely, a maniacal laughter echoing off the chamber walls, magnified a hundred times over. “Come to me Link. You and I, we’re indeed bound by a thread of fate. Destined to fight. Meet me in battle and the thread of fate that binds us will be soaked crimson with your blood.”  
Link lunged forward with a cry, bringing the Master Sword swishing down toward Girahim, The Demon caught his blade again between his fingers, laughing savagely.  
“Is that all you’ve got for me Sky-child? Come now, surely you must be seething…do my words not sting?” Link strained and tugged on the hilt of the sword, Girahim released it. He snapped his long, charcoal-black fingers, conjuring a line of daggers. “It’s alright, little hero…let your hatred out. Perfectly natural after what you’ve been through.” Girahim continued to torment him as Link circled, slashing the line of daggers away like flies. The Master Sword burned in his fist. In a whirl of black, Girahim conjured the broadsword he had wielded at the Temple of Time ruins. “Are your feelings hurt boy? You cannot seriously think that a god like myself could ever…what is the word you humans use…ah yes…love.” Link screamed, pivoting sideways and slashing at Girahim, catching him in the arm. The force of the blow sent Girahim stumbling backward, but the coating of black armor that sealed his arms did its job. There was no blood. Links eyes flashed…if he could simply keep him at bay, this new armor would at least keep the Master Sword from killing him.  
  
So they danced, Link turned and twisted as Girahim sent more daggers flying. Girahim dodged and pirouetted, slinking and sliding past the majority of Links blows, deflecting the worst of them with his jet-black sword. But it was taking every bit of strength he could muster to stay even on the defensive. The Master Sword swung true several more times; cracking Girahim across the shoulders, and sending him reeling forward; another had him careening into a red pillar as the flat of the blade collided with his chest. Link pivoted through the familiar motions he had been taught with ease, the Goddess’ Sword flashing like a beacon in his hands. He could sense Girahim weakening. Girahim snapped his fingers, sending yet another line of daggers toward Link and at the same time he leapt high, aiming his sword for a killing blow at Links head. With a crash, Link brought his sword up to meet the dark blade in a shower of sparks. Links other hand sprang in front of him, snatching the red dagger soaring towards his throat. Snarling, he brought its wicked red point to Girahim’s own neck which was still quite unprotected. A flash of diamonds shimmered before his eyes as he suddenly found himself defending against nothing but air.  
  
“…Enough of this foolishness…I am Girahim, Demon Lord!” He had re-appeared several paces in front of Link, his dark fingers clutching at his face, his eyes wide with anger. It shouldn’t matter how powerful your sword is, you are still nothing…Not just a human…a human child! And yet you prevail!” He spat, his temper boiling. Link himself felt his arms burning with the physical exertion it had required to stave The Demon off; but a flame of satisfaction blazed within as he watched Girahim, or Demise rather, cower before him. “You filthy scamp! You have awakened a wrath that will burn for eons! I swear to you, whatever it takes, I will drag you into an eternity of torment!” With another circular flourish of his black blade, he was gone.  
Link let out a long, slow breath that he didn’t even realize he had been holding. He had done it. He had bested Demise’s power; at least for now. He would be fooling himself if he thought that would be the end of the nightmare, but it gave him hope. He tried not to rehash the Puppet Girahims words in his head…he couldn’t have meant them…no…of course not. All the same, they made Links insides twist in painful knots. He looked instead toward the gently pulsating stone door in the opposite wall. He stooped, collecting the glittering heart container from the floor tiles and made his way toward the last sacred flame.  
  
Later…  
  
Link threw the door of his room open, stumbling forward onto the carpets. Tears ran freely down his cheeks and his body shook, breaths coming in ragged gasps. Zelda. He had forgotten just how much he truly had missed her, such was his joy at their re-unition at the Sealed Temple. Colors and emotions; Demise’s cruel, monstrous form; Girahims face; her face; the Triforce…all swirled together across the inside of his closed lids like a bad slide-show. He collapsed upon the floor, as sobs wracked his tired body. To have had her back, only to lose her again. His heart ached. The words she told him circulated through his exhausted brain as he struggled to comprehend…to make sense of them. His body felt full of lead; his tired limbs melting into his embroidered carpets. His breathing gradually slowed, his head still spinning. He was drifting…his consciousness waning as he was carried beyond the edge of reality and into a fitful sleep.  
  
Not for the first time, The Goddess’ Hero awoke to find himself spread-eagled on his dorm room floor. He groaned painfully, The Master Sword and shield digging into his back, as he had not removed them before drifting off the night before. A dim slash of pink filtered in through the window behind him, signaling the dawn. He brought a hand to his face, rubbing sleep from his eyes and massaging his temples as his thoughts and feelings slowly flooded back into his head like ice water. He sat up awkwardly with a grimace, grasping his face in his hands. Zelda…Hylia…whoever she was now…she was at least safe, but at what cost? Sealed in stone to keep the prison holding Demise intact seemed like a hefty toll. He had felt so helpless, wishing there was anything else he could’ve done…he would gladly have taken her place if it had been possible. And she felt guilty for using him? Goddess or no goddess, he would always fight for his friend. He swallowed the lump that began to rise again in his throat. He simply had to see the rest of this through. ‘When all of this is over, will you come wake me up?’ She had said…suddenly his face contorted in a gruesome snarl, his fingernails digging into his forehead. Demise. He was the cause of all of this. He was nothing but an almighty coward, too weak to face Link himself. Link knew in his heart the King of Shadows wouldn’t be able to run forever. The day would soon come. Link intended to keep his promise of never giving up. He would awaken Zelda. He would set Girahim free. Girahim. Link heaved a great sigh, tilting his head back. Demise had surely proven his powers were growing in taking over and using The Demon. Link only hoped that this new parasitism didn’t kill him. He still hadn’t quite devised how to break the dark spell that held Girahim captive, but the floating puzzle pieces in his mind were beginning to connect. Zelda; he had decided to insist upon her common name, had told him he had the power to wield the Triforce, and that it had the capacity to grant his wishes. Aside from wishing for the destruction of Demise, could he perhaps use its power to free The Demon? Did it even work that way? There were still too many unknowns…surely something powerful enough to shape the very land on which he stood had the capability to grant freedom to someone in need. “Why me?” He whispered aloud. “What if I’m tired of being everyone’s bloody hero?” With a sniff he pushed himself to standing. He knew in his heart he was being pathetic, but a part of him did long for a simpler time. Long, leisurely flights around Skyloft with Zelda laughing into his shoulder; sneaking into Groose’s room and stealing his hair cream; stammering a slew of apologies to Pumm for using his pumpkins as soccer balls. Link smiled to himself; he might never get back the pieces of his old life, but they were certainly worth fighting for. He tugged his equipment straight with a jerk, and turned to leave…there still remained the problem of locating this Triforce.


	11. Time Grows Short

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Skipping ahead a bit here, because I’m eager to wrap up the final showdown and put an end to slogging through all the cut scenery, lol. I hope you like what happens after the battle is over, so hang in there with me.

Breathing slowly and deeply, Link gazed out over Faron Woods from atop the statue of The Goddess. Fi hovered beside him looking in the direction of The Sealed Temple, her expression as blank and serene as ever, but a different energy emanated from her countenance. Link couldn’t quite explain it, but he supposed that in working so long with the sword spirit he had developed a keen sense for her mood. He had grown to really admire Fi, even though her blunt insistence grated him sometimes. They had done it. Demise was gone. Fi had said it herself; and whatever she lacked in emotion or empathy she had always more than made up for in brutal honesty. It had always been her way, and Link trusted her. He turned his hand slowly over, the three golden triangles etched into his skin burned more brightly than ever. The Triforce. He had found it; its power destined for him…his to command and protect. He breathed deeply, the fresh air filling his nostrils until he thought he might burst. His heart leapt; Zelda would surely wake soon, and Girahim…The Demon had always had a knack for turning up at crucial moments. Links heart skipped a beat. He had not seen or heard from him since their last encounter in Eldin nearly a fortnight ago. He had no idea what the destruction of Demise would mean for Girahim, or if he even still lived. He gulped uncomfortably, preferring not to think of the latter. Would he even still have feelings for Link when this was over? Everything was happening at a whirlwind’s pace, Link reeled his thoughts back to the present. One step at a time…  
  
“Your prayers to the Triforce have been heard.” Fi said in her twinkling voice. She turned her jewel-bright eyes toward him. “In light of these factors, the seal Zelda maintained through her agelong sleep is no longer necessary. My projections indicate she will wake momentarily. I advise you to make your way to the Sealed Temple as soon as possible.”  
The sword spirit turned her face away shamefully…in truth she had not lied to him. The great, beastly form of Demise had indeed been eradicated. But she knew it was far from over. The Puppet Demon had yet to show himself.  
  
Tears of joy streamed down Links cheeks as he jogged toward the Sealed Temple grinning from ear to ear. A warm breeze was in his face, and he laughed aloud as he drew level with the heavy stone doors. He pushed them open and strode inside. The old woman stood before him, her face split in a crinkled smile; Groose stood to her left, his arms crossed smugly and a look of pride on his face. He nodded approvingly as Link approached, stepping aside to reveal the far doors. The Gate of Time still ticked ominously as Link looked on, open mouthed at a pale beam of light filtering through the opening between the large, carved stone double doors. The light flashed brilliantly, and the three of them threw a hand up as the doors slid open. Link stepped forward as the light waned, beholding again the large gem of amber that preserved Zelda within it. Her eyes were closed, her lovely face frozen in a perpetual sleep. Link watched in amazement as the strange light surrounding the bright orange stone began to pulsate…faster and faster…abruptly, with a resounding crack, large fissures split the face of the smooth surface. Snap! More veins fractured its face until, with an almighty crash like the sound of a thousand glass goblets shattering, the amber stone was blown apart. Links breath caught in his throat as he looked on, wide-eyed. As the light grew dim, and the shards of amber settled, he beheld her; Zelda floated ethereally down to the floor tiles. Her misty eyes fluttered as she raised her head to look at him. She began to walk forward shakily, a small smile spreading on her lips. She was even more beautiful than Link remembered; her skin and hair glowing with an elegant light. She stumbled suddenly, and Link dashed forward to catch her, drawing her close to him as they both collapsed to the floor. He buried his face in her hair, tears leaking silently down his cheek. He was so overwhelmed with joy that she was finally safe, but a pang of sadness that he couldn’t quite explain twisted deep within him.  
  
“Good morning…Link…” She said weakly into his shoulder. He said nothing, simply continued to hold her, reveling in the warmth and realness of her body. “I knew you would come for me.” She stammered, pulling away to look up into his face. Her watery eyes were filled with gratitude and adoration. He blushed lightly. “I knew you could do it, Link. Thank you.” He hugged her close again; he wasn’t sure if he would ever be able to let go. After what seemed like many long moments they broke apart. “I’d like to hear all about your adventures Link, but I think we had better go check on Granny and Groose.” She giggled. It was quite possibly the most beautiful sound he had ever heard. They rose and walked back through the stone doors to where the old woman and Groose stood waiting.  
It was wonderful to be re-united again with his old friends, laughing and regaling each other with various high points from the past several weeks. Even Groose had really grown on Link, and he was a perfect audience as Zelda and Link exchanged stories; gasping and laughing in all the right places, and filling in the gaps with stories of his own alongside the old woman in Faron Woods. Link swelled with happiness, like a deflated balloon inside him was finally being filled back up again; but there was still a piece missing…he bowed his head slightly as Groose and Zelda continued to laugh and turned toward the front door of the temple that hung ajar. He could just make out the point upon which he and Girahim had stood looking out over The Sealed Grounds what seemed like ages ago, before The Temple of Hylia had fallen back down to the surface. Link reached into his pocket, his hand closing over something smooth and pointed.  
  
Suddenly, without warning a large bolt of electricity shot from the temple ceiling down between Link and Zelda sending them both crashing to the floor. Link blinked diamond afterimage away from his vision, his ears ringing and rolled over; his heart nearly stopped. Once again, as though the mere thought of him were somehow a summons, a high, cold laugh filled the temple as The Demon Lord Girahim sauntered out from behind a nearby pillar. His arms were still coated charcoal and deep, black fissures still wound their way down the left side of his face to his boots. Link could see the empty, insentient look in his dark eyes. If Demise was still controlling Girahim then…Links insides twisted horribly. His brief elation at merely seeing The Demons face again was quickly replaced with a rabid fear. Zelda.  
  
“This is all very touching, really, but I’m afraid I have to cut this emotional moment short. It’s best for everyone if you forget about your friend. The little goddess is mine now!” Girahim exclaimed in a whirl of diamonds as he transported closer. Link struggled to stand up, his head still spinning. He was still so dizzy, he could only watch in horror as Girahim turned toward Zelda, extending his hand. She must’ve been knocked unconscious by the previous blow, for she did not respond when Girahim levitated her body with magic off of the stone floor. Link growled desperately as he fought to clear his head.  
“My master may have perished in this age, but in the past he lives yet! I’m taking the girl back through that door to help me revive the Demon King!” With a flourish, The Demon hoisted a limp Zelda over his shoulder and turned back to Link; “You’ve been so adorably dogged in your quest to get in my way, and as much as it has delighted me, I can no longer tolerate you nipping at my heels.” He continued in that same voice that didn’t quite seem to belong to him that Link remembered from their last meeting in Eldin.  
  
“…Link…” Zeldas eyes fluttered weakly as she lolled uselessly over Girahims shoulder, like a large and beautiful ragdoll. With a shake of his head, Link glared darkly as he staggered finally to his feet, drawing The Master Sword and taking a step toward Girahim. No way in hell was this all going to be for nothing.  
“I can’t let you do that.” Link said, surprised that his voice came out so calm and even. “Give it up Demise, you’re finished. Let it go.” Groose and the old woman were both staring open-mouthed from Link to Girahim. The Demon met his eyes with a vicious stare; he was no longer smiling.  
  
“…You know boy, you’ve really pushed me too far. The moment I’ve sweated and bled for is at hand. I don’t even have time to grind my heel into a worm like you. Not now.” In a flurry of diamonds he vanished, re-appearing at the top of the dais, upon which stood Groose and the old woman…and The Gate of Time. Link struggled to take a step forward, willing his feet to move, but he still felt light-headed and dizzy; the adrenaline that had kept him going before finally beginning to fade. An immense wave of exhaustion washed over him, making his stomach turn and he stumbled to one knee. Girahim did not look around as he glared darkly at Groose and the old woman. Link looked up as the idiot puffed out his chest, rather like a rooster he had seen over at Pumms place do when guarding the hens against intruders. Girahim glared disdainfully at him.  
“…Stand down. You’re in my way, and the sight of your appalling hair makes my gorge rise.” Strangely, Links heart rose at these words; they were a glimmer of the Girahim he knew. Perhaps maybe…just maybe he was still in there…clamoring to get out. With a grunt, Girahim kicked Groose roughly in the chest, sending him sideways into Granny, and together they tumbled off the dais. Link gritted his teeth as he attempted once again to stand. The Demon turned once more to glare maliciously at Link. “You’ve done a fine job of spoiling my plans to revive the Demon King in this age, so I see no point in dawdling here. But the past…oh the past…So full of possibilities. I shall resurrect him there with the divine soul of this golden-haired girl! Farewell Sky-child, it’s been a pleasure.” The wicked smile returned to his face, yet it still seemed to lack his true character, as though someone had cut and pasted it there. Link panted defeatedly as The Demon Lord puppet laid his scorched hand upon the gate, opening the strange spiraling tunnel of light.  
‘Damn!’ Link thought despairingly as Girahim disappeared through the gate. He pushed himself to standing with an effort, panting as every muscle in his body protested. Fingers trembling, he reached into his belt pouch and withdrew a small corked bottle with a red liquid swirling inside. He un-stoppered it and brought the warm liquid to his lips, draining half the bottle. He felt an electric heat surge through him, summoning back his strength. His head clearing, he made his way over to where Groose and the old woman lay sprawled on the floor; Groose was massaging his chest where Girahims foot had made contact and Granny was slowly getting to her feet, adjusting her long red shawl. She declined the potion Link offered, but he insisted that Groose drink the rest.  
  
“Thanks, Link…” his friend said with a grateful sigh. “Who is that pale-faced bully? Have you seen him before?” Link was returning the bottle to his belt pouch and didn’t reply right away. That was indeed a complicated answer. The old woman was also looking at him, as though she already had an expectation for what he was going to say.  
  
“He is The Demon Lord Girahim.” Link sighed somewhat regretfully. “He is an agent of Demise, under his direct control by way of a very old and dark magic.” He turned toward the gate as he continued to speak. He hadn’t talked of Girahim on any level to anyone yet. Groose and Granny merely continued to look at him, that all-knowing look still fixed upon the old woman’s face. “He was once a simple inhabitant of this land, a long time ago. He was once no different than you or myself.” He trailed off in a whisper as he began to ascend the dais toward the gate. He knew what he must do. There was nothing for it. If this information shocked Granny or Groose, they did not let on. The old woman stepped toward Link;  
  
“You have changed from the young boy that entered my sanctuary many moons ago.” Her face crinkled in a knowing smile. She dropped her voice to barely more than a whisper, looking up into his face with her beetle black eyes. “It will take a power much greater than the mere destruction of Demise to bring his wayward servant back to the light.” She reached a hand out to touch Link’s toe, as he stood high upon the dais now. “But, perhaps there is hope. You are The Goddess’ chosen hero. The threads of fate that bind you to Lord Girahim are no more an accident than the ones that bind you to The Goddess herself.” Link’s eyes flashed. Somehow she knew…something…He forced a small smile onto his lips and simply nodded. Whatever she knew, he would take all the words of encouragement he could get.  
“Let’s do this, Link.” Groose said, placing his ape-like hands on his hips. “Granny and me, we’ve got your back. I’ll follow you through, okay? Just tell me what to do, and Groose is on the case. I’m not scared of that sissy boy and his dark magic. We gotta end this.” Links smile broadened as he looked from Granny to Groose.  
  
“I wouldn’t have made it this far without either of you…thank you.” With his face set, he turned back to the gate, placing his palm upon its strangely warm and gently vibrating surface. With a series of clicks the tunnel within deepened, spiraling out of sight. With a last glance at the old woman, he turned and loped down the dark passage, Groose ascending the dais behind him.


	12. What Makes a Hero

Panting, Link emerged from The Sealed Temple and ran to the edge of the precipice looking down into The Sealed Grounds; The Temple of Hylia was gone again, and the seal spike was nowhere to be found. With a flash, an enormous barrier sprang to life before his eyes, spiraling its way down into the bottom of the abyss; a barrier of black and gold diamonds. Squinting through a crack in the pattern, Link could see him far below; The Demon Lord was circling a small white and frail something lying on the ground. Zelda. ‘Goddess, let her be alive…’ Link thought desperately. A deep, malicious laughter seemed to fill the entire gorge as Girahim continued to dance delightedly around his prey. He looked up suddenly, locking eyes with Link, far above him. He continued to laugh maniacally. Link watched in horror as he stretched both of his coal-black arms out over Zeldas lifeless body. A blast of golden light temporarily illuminated the clearing as Girahim curled his fingers, kneading the air above her limp form. Immediately, her body rose several inches off the ground before The Demon. Link began to stumble down the path, not taking his eyes off of the morbid scene. Girahim began to whisper darkly in a language Link did not recognize. Zeldas body twitched and spasmed uncontrollably. Then, Link caught a few words of English drifting up from the bottom of the pit;  
  
“Hear me, my hordes! The spell is nearly complete! The Demon King returns! Until then, you will keep that whelp from interfering with my ritual. I don’t care if the whole lot of you get lodged on the end of his blade. You will buy me the time I need! Do not fear him…fear my wrath if you fail me!”  
With a great crack of thunder, an evil black mass roiled overhead. Link looked up to see a wicked black storm slowly covering the surface in a curtain of darkness. His head snapped back as a mass of guttural cries issued from the bottom of the canyon. A swarm of Bokoblin and Moblin was making its way up the winding path toward him. Link rolled his eyes…brilliant. He drew The Master Sword and readied himself; he didn’t know how much time Zelda had. He would need to be quick. Bringing the sword swinging in front of him, he growled at the oncoming army. So it begins. As the first ugly creatures drew near, he swung in a wide arc, sending three or four flying at once. The sheer power of the fully restored Master Sword was enough to silence several Bokoblin with a single hit. Left and right, he danced and parried, slowly but surely making his way down to where Girahim still stood, muttering discernibly at the bottom. With a flourish, Link finally charged into the center of the clearing. He felt surprisingly good and not at all winded. The blood pounded in his ears as drew himself up to face Girahim. The Demon did not immediately look up as he spoke;  
“You’re far too quick, boy! I realize a simple child like you knows nothing of magic, but spells like this take time and a steady hand! Can’t you wait quietly like a good boy? Hmmm?!” Writhing in anger, Girahims blackened limbs clutched his head as he continued to snarl; “You petulant brat…You’ve pushed me too far. I’ve waited my whole existence for this! This is my moment! You know what?” He screamed, and with a flourish he sent Zeldas unresponsive form skyward. “If you’re so intent on hurrying to your grave, I’ll be happy to show you the way!” Link glanced abruptly upward as Zeldas eerily lit body let out a groan. She was alive, he thought with a jolt. Thank the Goddess. He brought his eyes back to glare menacingly into Girahims as The Demon continued furiously; “This time, there will be no heroic escape. I was a fool to toy with you and let you walk away with your life before, but I won’t make that mistake again. That I promise!” Girahims body suddenly twisted and contorted, his hands clawed at his face as he howled with rage. Link watched in alarm as a poisonous black flame engulfed Girahims body, like a toxic oil slick, rumbling and roiling as The Demon collapsed forward, bent double panting. It was a sickening sight. Link knew in his heart this was the bond of Demise working within. Would there be anything left of Girahim when this was over? Would he be strong enough to withstand The Demon King’s continued ravaging of his body? Link shook his head jerkily, burying those thoughts deep. He couldn’t afford to lose focus now. If there was any hope for he or Zelda, Link needed every ounce of concentration he could muster. Abruptly, the ground beneath them began to shake as a vast platform of gold diamonds spread out under Link’s feet. The black mass that surrounded Girahim continued to boil as the platform carried them high into the sky above. Link steadied his sword as the blackness around Girahim began to fade. As the sharp, inky flames melted away, The Demon Lord Stepped forward from amidst the cloud. Link felt his jaw drop, and quickly snapped it shut. His body had completely changed; His skin was now obsidian black, with a strange luster to it that gave it a hard, metallic look. Pale white diamond shapes broke up the sea of black, stretching across his wide shoulders and running down his thighs. His hair was no longer loose and silky, but was instead fixed in place as though cast in pearl-white stone. His eyes were jewel-bright and milky white and sharp pointed fangs glinted under his curled lip. He remained hunched in on himself like a rabid beast, his hard muscular shoulders heaving.  
“If only I’d put you in your place from the very beginning.” His voice was different as well; it had grown deeper and gruffer since Eldin, but now it was even more monotonous and robotic; Link was reminded suddenly of the robots in Lanayru. He gulped, as his mind dredged up an image of Fi. “Show a human a little mercy and next thing you know, he thinks himself your equal!” Girahim grated, his shiny black face still contorted in a tight grimace. “Given my station, I had to maintain some semblance of dignity, so I let you run with your life…multiple times even. Such a guilty pleasure…But instead of scurrying away like any creature with a basic instinct to survive, you just kept coming back. Again…and again…and again.” He growled into the diamond-encrusted floor beneath their feet, hulking like a tormented animal. Links heart pounded against his ribcage as he stepped back, raising The Master Sword. “I’ve let a mere boy make a fool out of me for the last time. You stand before a demon…or should I say, a weapon without mercy!” He cried suddenly as his head flew back, his arms grasping his own shoulders, nails grinding against the tough exterior of his body. With a flash, his form flickered as the dark blade of Demise materialized in its place, but re-appeared so quickly Link blinked in astonishment, sure he could have simply imagined the apparition. Girahim slowly lowered his head, turning his milky-eyed gaze upon Link. “For you boy, I’ve prepared a most appropriate and humiliating death. I even have a pet name for it—I call it ‘The Endless Plunge’! First I will take my time bludgeoning you, and when I grow bored of it, I will drive you to the edge and deliver a final strike to send you falling to your doom!” The Demon spat in that disturbingly dark, toneless voice. “I’ll delight in casting your body into this pit and snuffing out the flame of your life! Your broken body will serve as fine sustenance for the Demon King!” At these words, The Demon lowered his arms, revealing a glimmering white diamond gem, set into his chest in exactly the same spot as Fi’s. Link gasped; perhaps this spot was also a weakness that could be exploited without killing him? His face set, Link began to circle Demise’s ultimate weapon. ‘The Endless Plunge’, eh? Link thought derisively to himself; perhaps if he could knock The Demon off first, he could end this pointless confrontation and draw Demise out of hiding. His glistening, black armored skin flashed ominously; he did not produce a sword. Lunging Link slashed wildly, pressing his advantage with every ounce of strength he possessed. With a roar, Girahim lashed out with his heavy iron fist and Link was forced to leap backward, but he didn’t stay there. He immediately charged forward once more, desperate to shove the Slave of Demise off the edge of the platform. It worked. Girahim’s wicked form hovered upon the golden brink as a final slash of Links powerful blade sent him reeling backward. Hurrying to the edge, Links heart sank; another diamond encrusted platform had appeared several feet below and The Demon lay spread-eagled upon it. The milky-white crystal within his chest gleamed, unprotected. Links eyes narrowed as he leapt down to where the unconscious weapon sprawled. There was nothing for it; Link grasped the hilt with both hands and brought The Master Sword swinging down into the white gem stone with a crack. Girahims body shuddered as he leapt up mechanically, poising himself for attack. And in this way they fought their last battle; Link hoped desperately that he wasn’t looking at The Demon for the last time.  
  
Panting, Girahim stumbled forward onto his knees, the golden diamond stage flickering like a sputtering candle flame a mere foot off the ground. Link blinked sweat out of his eyes, flourishing The Master Sword at his side as The Demon faltered.  
  
“This…This is preposterous. Driven to my knees by a simple child of a man. Laughable. No matter how many times we clash, I can’t prevail! You think I can’t defeat you? You think I can’t win?? Boy, what are you?!” He clutched at the gemstone within his chest; spiderweb-like cracks nearly split the stone in two where The Master Sword had struck it. Link felt a flutter in his chest…he swallowed hard, hoping against hope that somehow he had managed to at least leave The Demon alive.  
  
“It’s time for you to show your true self, Demise! Stop this foolishness and face me! We both know I will continue to dog your every step until the end!” He shouted, summoning every ounce of courage and strength that remained to him. The Demon continued to clutch his chest as fresh waves of psychotic laughter overtook him.  
  
“Very well Sky-child, as you say…” He choked out between fits of maniacal laughter. “Victory can indeed still be mine to savor. Whilst we fought, the ritual I started has continued…At last, it’s complete! The Demon King shall devour the soul of The Goddess and be resurrected in his full glory!” Throwing his chest out and his arms wide, The Demon Lord continued to laugh dementedly as the earth under Links feet began to heave and rumble. He chanced a glance upward at Zeldas still-suspended form. A piercing shriek met his ears causing hot tears to jump into his eyes. Behind Girahim, a huge black oil slick began to ooze from the center of the clearing, thick acrid smoke shooting high into the air, obscuring the iron-gray thunderheads above them. Links eyes popped in his head as he stared helplessly on. In a burst of black diamonds, The Demon Lord disappeared as the torrent of churning darkness surged outward. Link threw his shield up as it washed grotesquely over him, making his head swim and his stomach churn horribly. As the putrid cloud settled, a great growl, as though from an enormous beast issued from in front of Link and he lowered his shield. The Imprisoned. With a roar, the one-hundred foot high abomination turned its scaly eyeless head skyward…toward the place where Zelda struggled, still whimpering helplessly. Link shook his head fruitlessly, trying to clear the nauseating haze from his mind. Opening its many-toothed jaws, the beast inhaled deeply. Zelda screamed, flailing wildly as a smoky, golden haze issued from her tortured figure and soared down into the waiting chasm of the brutes open maw. Link collapsed to his knees as a great whirlwind swept about the gorge, engulfing the great beast in a deluge of cruel light. He could hear Girahim laughing as he squinted through the storm, his shouts of glee penetrating the roar.  
“Don’t you see? It’s all over! You and your kind have lost! This world and everything in it now belong to darkness! They belong to my master!”  
As the gale subsided, Link raised his head and a horrible scene met his eyes. In the center of the clearing crouched a huge hulk of a being. Reptilian scales covered its immense shoulders, blending smoothly into leathery granite-gray skin. Its hair, seemingly made up of orange-red flames, blazed menacingly behind a face that looked as though it had been carved from stone. Cruel, red eyes burned lidless under a heavy-set brow. Links breath caught as the creature raised an arm as big around as Link practically was tall. It clenched its great fist, long black nails glinting cruelly. Out of the corner of his eye, Link caught a glimpse of Girahim; his hand pressed to his broken chest as he inclined his head.  
“Welcome back to us, Master.” His robotic voice rose from deep within him, as he gazed adoringly at The Demon King. With a grunt, Demise balled up his fist and thrust it at Girahim, an invisible force crashing into The Demons ruined chest. Links breath caught in his throat as he watched Girahim stumble backward, grasping helplessly at nothing but air…falling…falling. Demise opened his fist just as The Demon neared the ground and caught him in another invisible bond, raising his limp form upward. Girahims arms were stretched out to either side and his legs hung uselessly in a fixed form that looked horribly like…Link gasped aloud as the hilt of a cruel, black weapon issued from the broken center of The Demons chest. Girahim screamed, head thrown back; half laughing, half howling in agony as the blade of Demise was drawn excruciatingly from his body. With a flash, the sword flew to Demise’s outstretched hand, glowing with an evil malice. As if in answer to a call, Girahims torpid figure disintegrated in a haze of gold as Demise’s ultimate weapon glowed with the return of its cursed lifeforce. The Demon King brought the blade to his hulking face, examining it with a cruel grin. Link realized his jaw was hanging open again in horror, and he closed it. He jumped up, readying The Master Sword, ready to end this once and for all. He had to kill Demise. It was his friends’ only chance; the world’s only chance. With a guttural growl, The Demon King spoke;  
  
“…So you are the chosen knight of The Goddess…Intriguing…” His voice was much deeper still than the one he used in his occupancy of Girahim; as though two huge boulders were being ground together. Link glowered darkly as Demise turned his eyes upward to the place where Zelda still hung helpless. “The Goddess lowered herself to a mortal existence to keep me imprisoned. How pathetic. This bag of flesh pales in comparison to the magnificence of her previous form.” With a roar that grated like metal on metal, The Demon King swept his cruel, spiked blade to point at Zelda. Link cried aloud as her pale body was swept upward in a gale of wind and sent sailing toward the opposite side of the canyon. Stupidly, Link tore after her, knowing full well that there was no way he would reach her in time. Suddenly from the opposite side, a familiar voice called out;  
  
“Don’t worry Link! Groose has got this!” With a roar he dashed across the upper ridge as fast as his short legs would carry him. Link skidded to a halt watching wide-eyed, Demise chuckling darkly behind him. With a great leap, Groose dove as Zeldas limp form sailed toward the earth. Link squinted into the cloud of dust that followed, holding his breath. “Link, I…I caught her! She’s OK!” Link released the breath he had been holding with relief. With a snarl he turned back to Demise as The Demon King continued to address him.  
  
Groose frowned sadly, pushing a soft golden strand of hair away from Zeldas cheek, and tucked it tenderly behind her ear. She groaned pitifully, her eyes fluttering, but they did not open. He gulped, pulling a small handkerchief from his pocket and mopped her sweat-dampened brow. He peered over the edge of the precipice to where Link stood defiantly facing Demise below. This has to end soon. “Don’t you worry Zelda, Link will sort that great ape of a fella out. I’ll keep you safe in the meantime.” He crooned gently, looking down into her pallid face. A bark of laughter from the clearing below made him start. Clutching Zelda to his chest he rocked forward onto his knees as a pool of that wretched black liquid oozed once more in the middle of the clearing.  
  
“Very well then,” The low growling voice of the Demon King met his ears. “I shall prepare a place for us where we will not be bothered by distractions. If you still have the courage to face me, seek me there.” The voice faded as the huge form of Demise backed into the center of the void, raising his cruel sword. The evil mass churned, poisonous tendrils cloaking him in darkness. Seeing that Link intended to follow, Groose called out from above;  
  
“Link, it’s all on you! Oh, and listen up! Granny had some info for you! The old girl said it’ll take time for that grease-wad to absorb Zelda’s soul completely! If you can take him down before her soul gets all sucked up into that…thing, you might still have a chance!” Groose looked sadly at the helpless girl in his arms, tears welling in his eyes “I…I know you can do it! So…yeah!” Turning back toward the tiny pinprick at the bottom of the abyss that was Link, he pumped the air with his fist. “You’ve gotta do this! You’re all Zelda’s got! You’ve gotta make this happen!” He lowered his face back to Zeldas beautiful face and said more to reassure himself than anything, “It’s up to you now, Link…”  
  
‘Thanks for the pep talk, Groose’ Link thought to himself, turning toward the boiling black mass before him. Steeling himself, he charged forward, poisonous looking tendrils swallowing him as he was transported away. He lost track of space and time, unable to see his hand in front of his face. Abruptly, he found himself clamping his eyes shut as a bright light flashed around him. Squinting in the brilliance, he looked around, astonished. An endless sea of white clouds and sunshine stretched around him. He took a step forward, tightening his grip on The Master Sword and looked down in shock. He stood on what appeared to be a shallow pool of water, but the surface was like no pool of water he had ever seen; it was reflective, like the surface of a mirror but it danced and rippled about his boots as he strode forward. Demise stood before him, his back to Link and his sharp, brutish blade hanging loosely in his great, cannon-ball like fist. He spoke without turning around;  
  
“Ah, so you’ve decided to meet your end in battle after all. It pleases me greatly to see such misplaced valor, human. Take a moment to appreciate your surroundings, for where we stand shall serve as your tomb for eternity.” Link hefted his shield and gripped The Master Sword as Demise continued to speak. Link was done with words. He hardly listened nor cared. He was ready to send this sadistic barbarian of a king into a prison from which there would be no escape. His glare deepened as he let Demise’s threats of global domination wash over him. This savage animal would…NEVER…rule.  
Whirling the Master Sword, Link scowled determinedly as He and Demise circled one another. A mass of storm clouds churned overhead, choking out the bright, pale blue sky.  
“It’s not too late to turn back, young one…I promise to keep your cowardly secret if you wish to run home now.” Link growled, slashing horizontally; Demise easily deflected his blow. Link could tell by the way he carried himself that, despite his large size, this beast knew his way around a sword. They swerved and parried; it took every ounce of strength he could muster to stay on the defensive. With a great running leap he threw his weight behind his shield and shoved hard into Demise’s chest sending him staggering back. Seizing his opportunity, Link thrust his sword toward the heavens, charging the blade, and sliced to his right. He smiled triumphantly as great black spurt of blood, for lack of a better word, oozed from The Demon Kings granite-gray shoulder. They fought on like this for what seemed like ages, Links muscles burned from the sheer physical exertion. Gradually, the tide of the battle shifted as Demise took more and more wounds from The Master Sword. Suddenly, his head spun…images of Fi and Girahim dancing the swords flickered in his subconscious, threatening to overwhelm him.  
  
“This is for Zelda!” Link cried, as he drove his shield once more into The Demon Kings face, sending him flying backward once again. “And this is for Girahim!” He shouted, thrusting his blade skyward. Fi’s face flashed in his mind’s eye, her teeth bared. The Demon King’s eyes widened. With a great leap he whirled the sword point down, and thrust it into Demise’s chest.  
  
Panting, Link stumbled to one knee as the dark clouds above him cleared. A refreshing breeze blew from behind him, carrying away the remnants of a shattered Demise with it. Gone. Utterly. “I’ve bested you, I’ve won.” Link breathed, as his ragged reflection stared up at him from the strange mirror pool between his knees. It was as though he had been holding one giant breath. Everything that had happened from the moment he had opened The Sealed Temple doors flooded out of him as though on fast-forward. He threw his head back and laughed, tears streaming down his face. He glanced to his left where he had let The Master Sword fall, it glinted knowingly. Fi. She had fought just as tirelessly as he had. He knew what the visions of she and Girahim fighting meant now. The sword deities existed in a parallel dimension all their own. During the fighting, their emotions had been intense enough to cross over into Links consciousness. What other secrets lay within this thread that tied Fi and Girahim? How much did she know? Girahim. Link held little hope that The Demon was still alive in any state. He crawled across the unusual surface toward his sword. The cool, water-like substance lapped against his fingers, yet they remained dry. Just as he made to return the glowing blade back into its scabbard, a glimmer of light caught the corner of his eye, and he turned his head toward the edge of platform; to the point at which Demise had disappeared. A soft golden haze was steadily settling onto the rippling surface of the pool. Link stood, taking a shaking step forward, The Master Sword in his hand. Like a light snowfall creating drifts and mounds, the ash-like flecks of gilt began to settle into the curves and crevasses of…a human figure. Link watched open-mouthed as the last flake settled into the pale, masculine form of Girahim. Link closed the distance between them, sinking to his knees next to The Demons gently flickering body. He seemed solid enough, as Link reached a hand out gingerly to touch his arm, but the edges were blurred. The color of his skin and attire, for he had returned to his previous form, were faded like a water-stained drawing. His skin was cool as Link brushed several strands of silken hair from his face. He did not stir. The black spiderweb-like veins were gone from his face and body, though his arms remained coal-black. Hot tears welled in Links eyes and his hands trembled as they continued to rove Girahims translucent form, searching for some sign of life.  
  
“Girahim…” He said shakily. “Please…” His voice didn’t seem to want to work properly. Suddenly Link felt a cool hand close on his forearm.  
  
“Dry your tears, Sky-child, I’m hardly worth such an almighty fuss.” A strained voice whispered. Link gasped aloud, his eyes snapping up to Girahims face. The Demons eyes were still closed, but he brought his other blackened hand up to grasp Links shoulder and drew him into a tight embrace. Link forcibly swallowed the painful knot in his throat, squeezing his eyes shut as more tears leaked into Girahims washed-out red mantle. He held on with all of his remaining strength. He could hardly tell where his body began and Girahims continued. The Demons strong hands drifted into his sweat-dampened hair and gently massaged his scalp as he struggled to breath deeply. It was Girahim who broke the silence;  
  
“I feel I owe you an apology, Link. Pray, don’t let it go to your head, mind…” The boy choked out a chuckle into his shoulder. “I’m afraid I don’t remember much of my actions since our little soiree in the desert, however that doesn’t excuse them.” The Demon Lord rasped as the boy grasped him tighter. His eyes flickered open and he gazed down at the top of Links head, frowning slightly. He took a great shuddering breath as the world heaved suddenly around him, a blurred haze danced in his vision, clouding his mind. Girahim shook his head, desperately clinging to the present as his body threatened to regress. There wasn’t much time. He was weak, there was nothing holding him here. The boy turned his head abruptly, watery blue eyes staring up into his own, a worried look on his face.  
  
“That doesn’t matter now.” Link whispered huskily. The Demons form wavered as his breathing changed, becoming more labored. Links stomach dropped horribly. What could he do? He didn’t want to lose his friend again. “Just stay with me.” He croaked, his voice cracking. Girahim squeezed his shoulders and attempted a comforting smile.  
  
“As to that, I’m afraid my time here now is very short.” The boys lip quivered pitifully. There was something truly beautiful about human emotion. Girahim himself felt a painful knot clench within his own chest. “Listen to me Link,” He whispered feverishly, “When Demise bound me to him all those ages ago, our souls became intertwined…our destinies a part of one another. Inevitably, with the decline of his physical body and the source of his power, I too shall diminish. Something of a cruel insurance policy you might say. Without the strength or power of my former master to hold me here, I will be bound into a pitiable, lesser existence; unable to assume any tangible form. I shall fade into little more than a memory, cast into a deep sleep from whence there will be no awakening.” The sheer exertion of this explanation was almost more than Girahim could bear in his current state. He coughed, his head falling back and he squeezed his eyes shut, willing himself to remain present as he gasped for breath. The boy clutched at his shoulders in alarm.  
  
“You can’t…you can’t g-go…” Link stammered piteously. “I haven’t been able to tell you…I’ve figured it out…” He reached up and ran his trembling fingers through The Demons beautiful hair. “I can save you.” He annunciated these last words as though merely speaking them held the power to keep Girahim here. The Demon chuckled with an effort.  
  
“You already have Link…believe me.” His voice came from deep in his throat…from the remains of his very soul. “I never believed I would ever come to—that is to say I didn’t think I was capable—“ he struggled for the appropriate words. “I never expected to feel this way…I never expected to feel again…” He knew that wasn’t quite right, but he couldn’t bring himself to utter the exact word. He already felt as though he were a child learning how to speak all over again; quite embarrassing. His eyes flashed tenderly as the boy looked helplessly back, tears streaming down his dirt smeared, yet somehow still beautiful cheeks. Girahim raised his charred hand and swiped them away. “Now, enough of this foolish fluff, Little Hero. Its time to take care of yourself now. You don’t have to save everyone.” Link sniffed miserably, clasping The Demons outstretched hand in both of his own.  
  
“Oh, yes I do.” Link replied with emphasis. He threw himself onto Girahims chest, locking his lips with his own, grasping desperately at his fading form. Whatever residual force that held The Demon here was giving way fast; he felt frail in Links arms, as though a strong enough gust of wind would sweep him away. “I swear to you…” he murmured against The Demons slowly dissolving lips, “I won’t lose you again.” Girahims fading face crinkled in a crooked smile…and he was gone.  
  
It seemed like an eternity had passed when Link finally pushed himself up from the strange rippling surface of the pool and rubbed tears out of his red, puffy eyes. A cold wave of despair washed over him; the war was over, but he felt more alone than ever. What could he do now?  
A bright light flashed before him and he squeezed his eyes shut, turning away. He had just about had his fill of magic lights. He turned his head back, and there lying next to his folded knee was the great black broadsword of Demise. The hilt flashed, and Links eyes widened…Of course. How could he have not realized…Girahim was still bound to his former master’s sword. He had said it himself; that kind of old magic was not simply un-done. Link clasped the hilt and hefted the sword gingerly. It was warm against his palms. “Girahim…” He sighed. Link reached his hand into his pouch, searching for his sail cloth. His fingers brushed against the pointed sapphire earring that had belonged to Girahim; he grasped it gently before continuing his search. He finally felt the rough wool of the fabric against his fingers and he tugged the tightly folded sheaf of cloth from his pouch. He laid it open and set the great, dark blade upon the long edge of the fabric square. Rolling gently, so as not to snag the precious cloth Zelda had given him what felt like an age ago, he tenderly bundled the sword up and secured it with a length of leather cord. He heaved a great sigh, sitting back on his knees to look at the wrapped weapon. He thought fleetingly of calling out to Girahim, but he knew in the deep recesses of his exhausted mind that The Demon would not respond. Would he ever again? Links plan to break Demise’s spell did not exactly account for Girahim being in this current state. Could it still be possible? Was the sword spirit even there? Link forced a lid onto the flood of questions threatening to make him faint as a new idea occurred to him;  
  
“Fi.” He called gently over his shoulder.  
  
“Yes, master?” Her twinkling voice answered from within the hilt of The Master Sword. She did not materialize before him.  
  
“You were wonderful, Fi…”Link began first and fore-mostly, “Are you alright?”  
  
“I must apologize for the lack of my physical manifestation master. The battle we recently endured has weakened me greatly. Nonetheless, I shall try to be of assistance to you even given my current status.” Always so prim and proper…Link thought, a small smile tweaking the corner of his mouth.  
  
“I am sorry to disturb you, Fi, but I must ask you an important question;” Just how much did she know about he and Girahim? “You have encountered The Demon Girahim in another world…a world created around the similarities you share as guardians of the sword. Can you still sense his presence there? Does he still reside within the blade?” The words tumbled from Links mouth; he no longer cared what she made of them. She did not ask how he had come to guess about The Purgatory of the Guardians. A long pause stretched between them before she answered;  
  
“I can detect with a 90% accuracy that the soul of the demon spirit known as Girahim rests fitfully within his former master’s sword.” She spoke as if simply informing him of the weather, as she always did. “Master, I feel I must tell you that this signal is very weak. It is likely that the great battle from which you emerged victorious has banished not only Demise, but severely diminished the capacity of his servant as well. Based upon the intelligence I possess of my own current status, which is considerably less catastrophic, it would take a great magical power to revive a physical manifestation of Girahim.” Her voice, always contrite and scientific took on a softer quality as she trailed off. Links insides fluttered and his eyes narrowed…how much did she know…? Just as he pondered whether to ask this burning question, she went on; “With the defeat of Demise, a new master now holds sway over his blade. I don’t believe I need explain to you who that individual is.” Links eyes widened…he hadn’t thought of that… “Perhaps under the guidance of a new master, there remains a shred of hope for the wretched being within.” Her voice remained skeptical yet kind as another long pause grew between them. Link’s face worked as he grasped for words…there was a chance…his head spun. “If there is nothing else you need of me master, I suggest that you make your way back to the surface so that we may return to your own time. Zelda will be waking soon.”  
With a faint tinkle, the sword sprite retreated back into the recesses of The Master Sword. Link blew out a gasp of relief. Carefully, he tucked the heavy blade of Demise behind The Master Sword and jogged back across the mirror pool to the now golden lit portal, and the surface world below.


	13. Soirees and Secrets

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Finally we're clear of the game follow-along! Here's some post-Demise fun!

Link couldn’t help it as a smile nearly split his face in two. Zeldas hands clutched his middle tightly as his great scarlet loftwing bore them steadily higher, Faron Woods fading into a green blur behind them. The wall of clouds had thinned and the surface world stretched far and wide beneath them. Groose whooped and hollered to his right, his loftwing dipping and swerving, throwing wakes of wind their way. Zelda laughed as a particularly strong gust tipped them sideways. He still couldn’t believe they had done it; he still felt as though any second he might wake to find it had all been a dream. While he was excited to get back with the others, and share in the celebrations he knew would likely ensue, he had other pressing matters on his mind. He could feel the great black blade of Demise rub between his shoulders as Zelda leaned into him. It was the only sword he carried now…. … …. …..  
….. …… …. …. …. ….  
“I do not have the capability to fully understand the human spirit, Link…But now, at the end of my journey with you, as I prepare to sleep within The Master Sword forever, I experience a feeling I am unable to identify. I lack sufficient data to be sure of my conclusion, but I believe this feeling correlates closest to what your people call…happiness. Our partnership is at an end, and even as we speak, I feel my consciousness fading away. Do not despair, young one, for you have a new task at hand. I know you are aware of what I speak. The great, black blade you now bear is no coincidence…you will know what to do. He waits for you. Before I enter the sleep that calls me to the sword, I wish to relay to you words that I recorded many times over the course of our journey. Many have said them to you thus far, but now I wish to say them for myself…Thank you, Master Link. May we meet again in another life…”  
…. ….. ….. …. …. … …  
  
Link leaned his head back, closing his eyes as the cool evening air ruffled his hair. She had known…somehow…He smiled. The sword was completely covered by his sail cloth but Zelda had already interrogated him about what it was. He had brushed her off with an excuse that it was a new sword, gifted to him by the Mogma clan as a thank you. At least he had stuck with the fact that it was a sword…he had no idea how he was going to explain it to her; Girahim, Demise’s blade, how he intended to purify it and use the Triforce to break The Demon King’s wicked spell so that his evil servant could be freed, brought back to life and that he, Link, was in love with him. It all sounded very well in his head, but the idea of explaining it to anyone…was ludicrous. He sighed, shaking his hair out of his face; he had to start somewhere. He only hoped she wouldn’t hate him utterly for it. Blinking against the early evening sun, he steered his loftwing ever upward, toward Skyloft, Groose tailing behind him.  
  
Later…  
  
“Three cheers for Link!!” Groose shouted above the din of the surrounding crowd. They were all there; the knights and instructors, the merchants from the bazaar, Pumm and Kina, even Beedle. They had all gathered in the sparring hall to feast and celebrate the homecoming of Link, Zelda and Groose.  
The three of them had, of course, gone straight to Headmaster Gaepora upon returning to Skyloft, but as soon as the Headmaster released Link, Zelda and Groose from his arm-crushing embrace, he led them all out to the huge bell standing upon the roof of Knight Academy and rang it three times.  
  
“Tonight, we feast!” He cried. “A week’s worth of celebrations, the like of which none here on Skyloft have ever seen, shall ensue to hail the heroic return of the three of you!” Groose’s face had turned as red as his hair.  
The practice logs had been cleared away, and several long wooden tables had been pulled in from the bazaar restaurant. Piles of food had been brought in by everyone in the village, including an enormous cauldron of Pumm’s famous pumpkin soup. There were also several large kegs of his special seasonal pumpkin spiced ale.  
  
“Hip, hip…!” Groose shouted.  
  
“HOORAY!!” Echoed the villagers, raising their glasses toward the long, white cloth-covered table at the front of the hall where Link, Zelda, Groose, Headmaster Gaepora and the other instructors sat. Everyone drank deeply, especially Groose. His face was already pink, under the influence of several glasses of ale, but he raised his tankard again;  
  
“…And let’s have a very special toast, to our Zelda, and everything she sacrificed for us all. Our Goddess, our protector, our fearless leader…” He turned his chestnut eyes toward her as he spoke. Link watched as she nodded appreciatively, giving him a small smile. Groose melted adoringly under her gaze. ‘Nothing’s changed’…Link thought to himself, smirking under his breath.  
  
“HEAR, HEAR!!” Roared the crowd, louder than ever. Groose punched the air with his mug, ale slopping over the side and down his arm as he drained his glass. Link rolled his eyes, finishing off his own pint. A little liquid courage might not be such a bad idea anyway. As Groose rejoined the table, music struck up from somewhere at the opposite end of the room. Link rose and made his rounds; Pipit and Karane pounded him on the shoulder and congratulated him; Fledge approached him nervously and thanked him again for all of his work-out tips; Eagus practically lifted him off the floor in a hug that almost cracked his ribs. As he broke away, thinking another mug of ale would hit the spot, his ears pricked as the sounds of pitiful sniffles issued from somewhere off to his right. Turning around, he caught sight of Peatrice, the Item Check girl sitting alone at a small table against the wall. He glanced back over his shoulder; Zelda was deep in conversation with her father. Link turned and strode to Peatrice’s table, taking a seat upon the bench across from her. She raised her puffy, bloodshot eyes to him as he sat, biting back more sobs. He gave her a sad, half-smile; he did feel a bit guilty about this…he should have known leading her on would come back to bite him somehow.  
  
“Pea…” He began, but before he could get two words out, a wave of emotion overcame her again. Her shoulders quaked as she covered her face with her hands.  
  
“No!” She wailed, “You don’t have to explain yourself to me! It’s all my fault!” His eyes widened in astonishment, he wheeled around to make sure no-one was taking notice. “I sh-should have kn-known a handsome knight l-like yourself could n-never L-L—LAAAHHHAAAHAAAAA!” she desolved again into pathetic sobs. Link sighed heavily, a smile spreading on his face again.  
  
“Pea, please…” He reached out and grasped one of her tear-soaked hands and held it between his. “I need you to listen to me.” She raised her head to look at him once more, hiccupping wetly. “I know this looks bad, but…”  
  
“Looks bad?? LOOKS BAD?” She snarled, wrenching her hand away. “Well, I don’t need your apologies! I’m a b-big g-girl!” She cried, fresh tears cascading down her cheeks. He rolled his eyes and went on;  
  
“No, no, it isn’t what you think at all…” Her entire demeanor changed instantly as though a light had been suddenly switched on.  
  
“It’s not?” She sniffed, the honeyed tone back in her voice, her damp eyelashes flickering as she gazed admiringly back at him. “Well, why didn’t you just say so, sweetie?!” She snatched his hand back and began caressing it with her own. “I was so worried when I saw you making eyes with that…goddess girl…Zelda…” Links eyes rolled back in his head so far he was beginning to think they might get stuck there. He sighed exasperatedly as she chattered on.  
  
“Peatrice, I’m gay.” He interjected flatly.  
  
“…you know I’m sure no-one would notice if we just—wh-what?” The sweet lilt in her voice suddenly turned to ice. He smiled apologetically. “You…you what?” Her eyes welled again, threateningly.  
  
“Look, I’m really sorry.” He said, squeezing her hand. “I know I should have said something sooner…Goddess knows, I hardly admitted it to myself all that long ago…but it is true, Pea.”  
  
“Oh…” She gulped, allowing him to set her hand back on the scrubbed wooden surface of the table. She eyed him beadily. “You aren’t holding hands with that pompous brute, I hope…” She nodded toward Groose, who was growing redder and redder as he continued to gulp more ale. Link threw his head back and laughed out loud.  
  
“Hell, no!” He exclaimed. She laughed weakly. “I truly am sorry.” He continued, looking into her eyes. “I hope we can still be friends. Please don’t tell anyone else just yet, okay?”  
  
“I won’t.” She said seriously. “You know me, I’m just great at keeping things safe…items, secrets, you name it.” Her smile widened. “To be honest, it was really nice having something to look forward to…Now I suppose I get to look forward to our continued friendship.” She squeezed his hand back and he winked at her, pushing back from the table.  
  
He looked around for Zelda and spotted her in the corner talking to Instructors Owlan and Horwell. He turned instead toward the great, carved wooden doors leading out of the hall. He made his way around to the side of the building and pulled out his clawshots. Aiming high at the peak of the roof, he fired. Jagged metal teeth clamped hard onto the wooden beam of the roofs crest and Link slowly retracted the chain as it drew him up onto the rooftop. There was a wide spot at the very end, just large enough for him to sit cross-legged upon. With a great sigh, he gazed out beyond the light-tower as the sun dipped toward the horizon. Brilliant shades of orange and yellow and red splashed together across a sky that he couldn’t remember ever being more beautiful. Red, for Girahim’s silly cape that he was so fond of; Yellow, for the beautiful color of Zelda’s hair when the sun caught it just right; Orange, for Impa, for the undying fire that blazed in her noble heart; and slashes of blue and purple, for Fi…he already missed her. It was going to be lonely indeed, going back to the surface without her. He inhaled deeply as the shades of purple expanded, welcoming the twilight.  
  
“Link?” An angelic voice called from below. He leaned over the eave of the roof; Zeldas twinkling face stared up at him. “I was wondering where you had gone…may I join you?” Oh boy…he thought. He didn’t feel ready, but he supposed it was now or never. He rummaged in his pouches for his whip, and gently uncoiled it. He extended the leather cord down to her and she wound it in her fists. He braced his foot against the roof beam as he tugged her up. Extending his hand, he helped her to the platform where he had sat looking out at the sky. “It’s beautiful…” She breathed. “It’s the most beautiful sunset I’ve ever seen. Oh, Link…” She turned to him, her eyes gleaming. Her hands reached up, clasping the sides of his face. His stomach knotted…if she was about to do what he thought she was about to do…closing her eyes, she tugged him closer. He squeezed his eyes shut and instead shifted awkwardly so her lips brushed his cheek instead. Abruptly, he snaked his arms around her waist and pulled her into a tight embrace, settling his cheek into the warm space between her neck and shoulder. With a small sniff of surprise, her arms drifted slowly to his shoulders as she recovered herself. She laid her forehead against his chest, breathing heavily. “Link, what’s wrong?” She whispered. “What aren’t you telling me?” Time to be serious. He broke away from her, her eyes sad and searching, and turned her carefully around to sit between his knees. He kept his arms around her waist, and she settled her hands upon his. For a long moment, he didn’t speak. When he finally felt like his voice wasn’t going to abandon him, he began;  
  
“There is much I need to tell you. I can only hope that when I’m done you won’t want to throw me off a bird ramp and never see me again.” She turned her head right around in surprise.  
  
“Link, if nothing else, you are my best friend. You saved my life. I owe you everything.” He smiled embarrassedly. He took a deep breath;  
He told her everything, save the more explicit details of he and Girahim’s night in Lanayru, but the rest flowed out of him like water out of a flood-gate. He told her how The Demon had come to be in Demise’s service; how he had continually spared Link his life; how their bond had grown into something more intimate; How Demise had tortured and controlled him against his will; and the last words they had shared upon the strange mirror-pool battleground. He told her what Fi had said about him becoming the sword’s new master and exactly how he intended to revive Girahim by visiting the Sacred Flames with The Demon King’s sword. She said nothing as he finished, drawing deep, uneven breaths.  
  
“Maybe I should have told you sooner, but there was never a good time…and…it hasn’t exactly been easy for me…The amount of guilt every time…I’m so sorry…” He trailed off. He wouldn’t blame her if she never wanted to speak to him again. A long pause stretched between them.  
  
“Do you know? I think it might just work…” She said softly, in barely more than a whisper. His heart skipped a beat. Her hands tightened upon his.  
  
“Wh-what?” He whispered croakily into her hair. “What will work?”  
  
“Your plan for the sword…” She turned around to look at him again. Silent tears had made wet trails upon her cheeks, but she smiled through them. His jaw worked silently as he struggled to summon words;  
  
“You’re serious? I mean, y-you aren’t angry?” He stammered…he sounded almost as bad as Peatrice now. Her smile broadened, but her eyes still held a deep sadness.  
  
“Link, am I supposed to be angry that you’re being who you were meant to be? I can’t say I altogether approve of your choice in a partner but… To be honest…” She said, swiping the tears from her cheeks hurriedly, “I’m rather relieved we don’t have to go diving headfirst into a relationship together. I know it’s what father wants, but…I feel like I have so much to do now.” A brilliant bubble of happiness swelled within him, so that he thought he might burst. He couldn’t believe she was taking it this well. She wasn’t storming off, or punching him on the nose, or screaming at him…she was actually encouraging his crazy ideas. He blew out a relieved sigh.  
  
“I…just…wow…I’m really…” She laughed as he struggled and stammered.  
  
“We’ll call it even, okay?” She crooned sweetly, tugging at a stray lock of his hair. He hugged her close, kissing the top of her head, and she snuggled deeper into his chest. They didn’t say anything more, simply enjoyed the comfort of one another and the last rays of the sun as it dipped ever closer toward the horizon.  
  
The next morning…  
  
Link rolled over onto his side without waking. A cool autumn breeze drifted through his open window, and a chorus of cricket song hung in the thick, misty morning air. Brilliant orange rays slashed the early morning sky and loftwings called to each other in the distance. The young hero snorted roughly in his sleep, his hand closing upon the jet-black hilt of an enormous broadsword. As the sun rose, a gleaming ray of golden light blazed through the window, illuminating Links soft, tanned face. With a groan, he flopped onto his back, blinking his eyes blearily. He rolled his head to the side, surveying the cool length of carefully wrapped jagged metal beside him. Demise’s sword…Girahim…for all intents and purposes. Link ran a finger over the blood-red ruby set into the hilt, a faraway look in his blue eyes. The corner of his mouth twitched; he was setting out today to re-visit the Sacred Flames. They had given strength to The Master Sword, perhaps they possessed the power to cleanse The Demon King’s blade and revive the lost soul within. There were no guarantees, but it was all he had to go on. Even Zelda was unable to say with certainty that it would succeed, but her confidence in the idea had given him strength. There just weren’t enough words to express how grateful he was for her support. He had been so afraid to tell her about Girahim, it had almost made him sick. He knew she would keep his confidence; He wasn’t exactly leaping to tell anyone when he had no fucking clue if his plan was going to work. With a sigh, he slid back the wool coverlet and swung his legs over the side of the bed, toes curling into the soft carpet. He shivered lightly as the cool morning air lapped at his bare shoulders. Heaving himself up, he padded to his wardrobe. He set about pulling on his mail and freshly laundered tunic and breeches. He buckled on his belt pouch and pulled on his leather boots. He glanced at himself in the small mirror upon the inner door of his wardrobe; his face was longer and leaner, his eyes deep-set and knowing, his sun-kissed skin weathered and worn. He smiled at his reflection before striding back to his bedside. He grabbed Girahims double pointed sapphire earring from his nightstand with a fond grin and took up the great black sword. He cocked his head deliberating; he might need his sail cloth. Gently, he undid the leather cord binding the soft fabric around the blade and unrolled it. He snatched an old tunic with a hole in it hanging, abandoned, in the back of his closet and used that instead. He tied the heavy weapon roughly across his back and fastened his shield over it. Time to go.  
He loped over the bridge and down the path leading to the bird ramp that would point him in the direction of Faron Woods. He skidded to a halt as two figures loomed into view before him, standing upon the near side of the ramp. The shorter of the two turned its hooded face toward him as he approached. He caught sight of a pair of twinkling blue eyes and a wide smile under its hood and he beamed. Zelda. He jogged up to her and she reached out her arms, embracing him tightly, her hood falling back. As they broke away, Link turned toward the second figure; Instructor Owlan regarded him with bright hazel eyes.  
  
“Good morning to you, Link. I’ve just been speaking to Zelda here about the many unique plants and animals just waiting to be discovered in Faron Woods.” Link glanced quickly at his friend; she peered back at him with a crooked smile.  
  
“I hope you don’t mind Link, but I’ve invited Instructor Owlan to accompany us to the surface today.” She emphasized the last few words, her eyes flashing meaningfully.  
  
“Oh, er…yeah…right, of course.” He answered somewhat awkwardly, catching on. She was coming? He was coming? Link tried not to let his shock show on his face, and gave Instructor Owlan a forced smile, which he returned ignorantly.  
  
“Well!” Zelda exclaimed, clapping her hands together. “If you two are ready, I suppose we had better get a move on!” The three of them turned and began to walk toward the edge, their footfalls echoing upon the weathered wooden beams. Link hung back slightly and tugged Zeldas sleeve;  
  
“What are you doing?” He hissed under his breath.  
  
“Don’t worry, I’ve told him we’re going to scope out a likely location for resettlement. I wouldn’t have invited him at all except that he caught me on the stairs and asked where I was off to so soon.” She whispered back. He scowled at her. They came to a halt three paces before the edge of the platform.  
“I’ll go first.” Zelda said. She broke into a run, pelting full-force toward the edge and with a flying leap, she dove head first off the brink. A high-pitched whistle rang out from somewhere below and a moment later, Zelda’s lavender colored loftwing could be seen pulling up in the distance, her golden hair whipping in the breeze as she craned her head around to where Link and the professor still stood.  
  
“After you, Link.” Instructor Owlan offered, extending his hand. Link bolted after his friend, relishing in the ice cold blast that bombarded his face as he leapt off the bird ramp. He let out his own whistle and seconds later he buried his hands in the warm, soft plumage of his own scarlet loftwing. Shortly after, he heard Owlans whistle sound from behind him and with a great woosh, the professor pulled up beside him, astride a handsome yellow bird. With Zelda in the lead, the three of them made their way in the dawning light toward Faron Woods.


	14. Old Friends

Link patted his loftwing fondly as the great bird spread its powerful wings, preparing to take flight again. Off to the side, Zelda and Owlan were doing the same; the professor unloaded a large leather briefcase from the back of his own mount before sending it off. They had landed in the courtyard outside The Ancient Cistern. Link drew himself up, his face set as he strode over to Zelda. The professor was busy rummaging in his briefcase, but Link lowered his voice anyway;  
  
“Zelda, I’m not really comfortable with an audience. I don’t even know if this is going to work.” He raked a hand nervously through his hair, glancing at Owlan who was now whistling happily to himself.  
  
“Don’t be silly, Link. I’ll tell him you have come to visit an old friend here, and then he and I will continue on to Faron Woods.” She adjusted her cloak without looking at him. Just as he opened his mouth to reply a huge spray of water surged over the walkway before them, nearly dousing all three of them. Zelda gasped; Instructor Owlan yelled in shock, several rolls of parchment flying from his hands. Blinking through the mist, Link peered out in front of them.  
  
“I’m surprised to see you back so soon, young Link” The grandmotherly voice of Faron the Water Dragon washed over him. “…And your highness…” She hummed, “It is an honor to welcome you to my woods.” The great dragon inclined her head respectively toward Zelda, who grinned back. “I don’t recognize this one…” She raised a scaly eyebrow at Owlan, who stared wide-eyed, his mouth hanging open. Link and Zelda shared a snigger.  
  
“He’s with us, Lady Faron.” Zelda replied amidst her giggles. “He’s one of the instructors at Knight Academy back at Skyloft. He has a great appreciation for plants and animals and has come here to study the many comings and goings of Faron Woods’…flora and fauna…” she trailed off as another fit of laughter threatened to take her.  
  
“A scholar!” Faron growled delightedly, swooping down to consider Owlan, who looked indeed like he might never speak again, his eyes nearly popping out of their sockets. “This is certainly a treat! I insist upon being your personal guide in the woods today.” The Dragon said jubilantly. Zelda winked at Link. Owlan seemed to be recovering himself and began gathering his belongings as The Water Guardian enveloped him in a dramatic saga of the history and times of Faron Woods. Link began to slowly make his way along the flooded stone pathway that lead into The Ancient Cistern, when The Dragon’s voice rang out, calling him back; “Just where are you going boy? Are you not joining us?” Link gulped, his mind racing, casting about for some quick explanation. Faron’s eyes narrowed in the direction of the obsidian hilt sticking out above Links left shoulder. He braced himself. “What is that you have there, boy…” She breathed in a dangerous whisper. Beads of sweat sprang up on Links brow and he drew a deep breath. He decided the truth would be best…or at least, a version of it.  
  
“This is the blade of The Demon King.” Link said loudly. “The Goddess...” Link inclined his head toward Zelda, who was staring at him with wide eyes. “…has charged me with cleansing evil from his blade so that its power can never be used for corruption ever again.” Link barely drew breath as The Dragon merely considered him for a moment.  
  
“It took a great and wicked magic to create the blade you now possess boy…and the being within…” She growled angrily, flicking her long tail. Link remembered well how the last meeting between Girahim and Faron had gone. “I am not one to question the will of The Goddess, however I feel I must impress upon you the seriousness of the task at hand. You must exercise great caution, for even I cannot say what ramifications may come of this assignment.” Link bowed low.  
  
“I thank you for your concern, your majesty. I will take great care.” The Dragon hissed a great sigh, turning back to Instructor Owlan, the pleasant tone returning to her voice. Zelda watched as they made their way up the path toward the woods, chatting animatedly. She took a few steps back toward Link.  
  
“Link, do be careful.” She gave him a small smile, and with a swish of her pink riding skirts she jogged back up the path to join the others.  
Link stood watching their departure for a long moment. Seeing Zelda disappear up the dirt path left a sour taste in his mouth; he still felt very protective of her.  
With a deep breath he turned once again toward The Ancient Cistern. He shoved the heavy stone door ajar and slid silently into the large central chamber. The stronghold of Farore was eerily quiet now that Demise had been defeated. Fish leapt and splashed in the shallow pools of the large room. Link made his way toward the great statue in the center, and pulled open a second stone door, ducking swiftly inside. With an exasperated sigh he approached the first of several water geysers that would lead him to the top of the statue and the room that contained the flame of Farore; it was his least favorite method of travel. He sucked in a deep breath, and stepped inside, an icy shiver rocketing up his spine. With a great swish, the jet of water bore him upward. Three times he repeated the process until, sopping wet and half-drowned he stepped out into the small circular atrium of the statue’s head. He dragged his sodden cap off his head and squeezed, returning it with a squelch. He wiped water away from his eyes and turned toward a short staircase leading to a large door carved and painted in the likeness of a great waterlilly. A determined look on his face, he hitched the great blade higher on his shoulders and mounted the stairs. Shoving the door closed with a growl of stone on stone, he sprinted down a short, dark hallway, emerging at last into the huge cavernous room that housed Farore’s Sacred Flame. The towering green conflagration blazed as brightly as ever in an enormous stone brazier at the far end of the room. Link approached it warily, dropping to his knees several feet from the inferno, and unbuckled his shield. He undid the knot that bound The Demon Kings sword to him with trembling fingers. He carefully unrolled the blade and grasped the heavy hilt firmly in his right hand, drawing it upward. He swallowed uncomfortably. He wasn’t exactly sure how to proceed…he wished Fi was there. As a matter of fact, He thought with a sickening twist of his insides, The Master Sword’s spirit had been there…to absorb the power of each Sacred Flame. How on earth was he supposed to accomplish the task when this particular sword spirit was…indisposed…Just as he was pondering the idea of simply walking up to the fire and submerging the blade within it, a familiar voice called his name from behind him;  
  
“Link…wait…” Zeldas voice echoed in the dank chamber. He whipped around, the cruel jagged blade glinting wickedly. “I…I have an idea…” She said awkwardly, stepping forward. “It occurred to me as we were strolling through the woods that you might need guidance in extracting the power of the flame.” She drew level with him, a worried look on her face. He raised an eyebrow at her, but said nothing. He was willing to go on a leap of faith. She took a deep breath and continued; “Do you remember the Prayer of the Blade that Eagus made us memorize and recite each time before dueling? In the days before Demise first rose to power, it was used by all of the great sword-smiths to bless the blades they created for great knights. It also served as a sort of invocation for squires graduating into knighthood. My father uses it even to this day. ” Links eyes widened as Zelda reached out and clasped his hand. They recited together;  
  
Oh, Goddess of mercy, just and fair  
I ask of you to grant my prayer  
The power to do what I must  
And courage to lead, tho ne’er unjust  
Wisdom, so I may lift up the weary  
Three-fold, they hold me to my quarry  
With this blade my heart shall keep  
The strength to fight until I sleep  
  
“Ouch!” Link gasped as a white hot pain seared his right hand, forcing him to release the hilt of the sword. The weapon did not crash to the ground, but floated, suspended by an invisible force toward the great green flame. A brilliant light flashed from the blade, illuminating the chamber and causing Link and Zelda to throw up their hands, shielding their eyes. The sword hovered, hilt down as the blazing inferno churned. Abruptly, just as before, several small green fireballs rocketed out of the central blaze and into the blade of the Demon Kings sword. Link peered through his fingers, and his jaw nearly hit the floor as the hazy, holographic shadow of an unconscious Girahim drifted out of the hilt of the sword and hovered just above the blade. His head hung loosely between his shoulders, his arms drawn out to his sides, mimicking the shape of the weapon. Link saw Zeldas mouth drop open out of the corner of his eye. Suddenly, Girahims head snapped back and his back arched, his fists clenching in agony as a spine-chilling howl filled the room. Link and Zelda both stumbled forward, clamping hands over their ears. Hot tears leaked out of the corners of Links eyes, which were squeezed shut. Just when he thought he could bear it no more, the screaming ceased as a great gust of wind whipped his hair back, and then all was silent. Link slowly raised his head, blinking dampness out of his eyes. Girahim was gone and the sword was drifting slowly toward him. He pushed himself to standing, extending his hand and closing it gently around the handle. The hilt was still warm but it no longer burned. Zelda stirred beside him, a look of bewilderment on her face. She rose from the wet stone floor and came to stand beside him. The sword had changed; the blade no longer sported sharp, cruel hooks, but was more serpentine and slender. The hilt was now a deep violet color. The ruby set into the center still gleamed ominously.  
  
“Link…” Zelda breathed, “I think you’ve done it.”  
  
Links mind raced as he leaned into his loftwings neck, urging the great bird toward Skyloft. Zelda and Instructor Owlan trailed behind him. So far, his plan had worked; the Flame of Farore had infused Demise’s sword; strengthening it…and hopefully giving strength to the being within. He still had one more test to perform to find out if his theory had worked entirely. It was getting quite late; a chill descended upon their shoulders and the sun had already almost completely disappeared below the skyline. Link hopped quickly off his loftwings back as soon as its talons hit the earth. With a greatful pat, he sent the bird off to roost. Zelda dismounted to his left, turning her own bird out for the night. Instructor Owlan joined them and the three set off up the long staircase to Knight Academy. Zelda and Link said nothing, but the professor rattled on about all of the amazing things he had seen and the incredible knowledge that The Water Dragon had shared. Link let the words wash over him, only half listening; his mind was elsewhere. Once inside, Instructor Owlan bade them both goodnight at the bottom of the main staircase and proceeded to the upper level, humming merrily to himself. Zelda turned to Link, a small smile spreading on her full lips. She reached up a hand and caressed his cheek.  
  
“Goodnight, Link…don’t let the demons bite…” She winked as his eyes widened. Sweeping around, her golden hair swirling about her shoulders, she too ascended the winding staircase to the second floor. He grinned after her. He turned and made his way down the hall to his own dorm room. Closing the door quietly behind him, Link unloaded his shield and laid Demise’s sword upon his bed. Breathing fast, he turned and began to strip quickly out of his traveling clothes, preparing for bed.  
  
“Well, look who it is indeed…” a low, smug voice muttered from behind him. Link whirled around; only his breeches remained on, his fingers lingering on the laces at his waist. His heart leaped up to pound in his throat as his eyes drifted to the sword that lay upon the bed. “Please continue…I’m rather enjoying the view…” the voice continued salaciously. Link let out a ragged breath;  
  
“Girahim?” He breathed, striding back to the bed and taking up the sword.  
  
“Yes, master?” He replied indignantly. Link puffed a great relieved sigh, shaking his head with a smile.  
  
“Are you…h-how are you?” He stammered. His shock that The Demon was able to communicate now seemed to leave him utterly speechless.  
  
“Could be better…certainly could be worse…” He replied idly. “I’m frankly amazed that a little sparrow like yourself actually found a way…” He trailed off in a whisper that was barely audible. Links smile deepened with pride.  
  
“I had to occupy my time somehow between your evil twin threatening to eviscerate me and your former master trying to kill my friend and take over the world.” He teased. A warm chuckle vibrated the very hilt. “Goddess be damned, it’s good to hear your voice.” He murmured in a more serious tone.  
  
“I have missed you too, Skychild…at least, I think I have…there was very little of my spirit left before now. I suppose an offering of gratitude is in order, however, I still find myself unable to leave the sword so will you simply have to take my word for it now…and perhaps a more appropriate showing will come later…” he crooned with a lascivious chuckle. Link felt his cheeks burn and his groin flinch, he did miss him. “Now tell me, Master Link; do you really have some grand plan to remedy my predicament or do you simply intend to live the rest of your life with a raging hard-on?” Link blushed a deep scarlet, almost dropping the sword. He had forgotten in his momentary elation that The Demon could still see him. He sat quickly on the mattress, crossing his legs as Girahims delighted laughter over-took him. He raised the hilt to his face and scowled darkly.  
  
“You’re positively insufferable sometimes, do you know that?” He spat peevishly. “You said it yourself, I’m your master. Perhaps you would do well to remember it now that I alone hold the keys to your salvation.”  
  
“Now, now, my little songbird, don’t be angry.” Link could hear The Demon’s ear-splitting smile in his voice. “It’s been ages since I’ve been able to torment you properly, and the prospect of this new grand adventure has me positively bursting with joy. Now, why don’t you elaborate and I promise I won’t interrupt.” Link had a sudden vision of Girahim crossing his legs and hands chastely, a look of pure innocence on his pale face. He rolled his eyes and propped the sword, point down, against the mattress next to him.  
  
“The force that has begun the revival of your strength came from the Flame of Farore.” Link began. “I got the idea after Fi made me visit the flames to resuscitate The Master Sword.” If this intelligence shocked Girahim, he gave no sign, choosing to remain silent as he promised. “The plan is to also visit The Flames of Nayru and Din, in the hopes that not only will you regain strength enough for your body and spirit to separate from the sword again, but that the blade may be cleansed of evil. As to breaking the spell completely…It is my belief, and Zeldas too…that only the Triforce has that power.” He let out a deep breath as he finished, and chewed his lip nervously waiting for The Demon to respond.  
  
“Well, as you have already made abundantly clear, I have little choice in the matter and no other valid options if I am to have any hope of being freed of this prison…or to see you again…” Link grinned warmly at these words. “I’ve held little love for The Goddess all my life, but perhaps it is time to let bygones be bygones. Full steam ahead, then, I suppose...” He said in a cool, even tone that was in sharp contrast to his usual arrogant drawl. “I am curious, Skychild, how your simpering little diva of a girlfriend responded when you told her…” Girahim regressed back into a self-important, oily tone.  
  
“She told me she thought I was mad for choosing to consort with a no-account, over-grown, self-absorbed peacock; and I told her she was probably right.” Link replied haughtily. A sharp hiss issued from the sword propped at his side; Link snorted a laugh. “You should be thanking her too…” He went on in an admonishing voice, “I wouldn’t have figured out how to infuse the blade without her help; and neither of us would be here without her support.” Something of an ashamed silence emanated from the blade. ‘Good,’ Link thought…a little submissiveness would do him good. Link sighed heavily and pushed himself up, running his hands through his hair.  
“I should at least try to close my eyes for a few hours…” He began, more to himself than Girahim. “We’re leaving for Lanayru at first light.” He turned back to the long curved blade, a crooked smile on his face.  
  
“I look forward to it.” Came Girahims sincere reply. “Now, if you will grant me the immense satisfaction of unlacing those horrible, bulky trousers…they do look like they must be terribly uncomfortable for you…” He purred, his voice dripping with a long-suppressed desire. Link rolled his eyes again. He pursed his lips as his hands glided down to the laces at the front of his breeches. So much for a good night’s sleep, he thought happily.  
  
The next morning…  
  
Girahim sighed from within the sword. As he was little more than a whisp of a spirit he had no need of sleep and had instead spent the hours of the night listening to the deep breathing of the boy next to him. He had re-wrapped the sword, (…and how will it be if I slice myself open in my sleep?), he had said exasperatedly when The Demon had challenged him on this. It was hard to exist in utter darkness after your eyes had been given even a pinprick of hope and light. He was impatient and eager to continue forward with Links plan. He had to hand it to the boy, he had really come through. It certainly wasn’t the grand revival Lord Girahim would have planned for himself, but perhaps it wouldn’t be so bad. It actually felt good to finally be free of Demise. Link was right; He hated that. It felt strange to be suddenly attempting to fill the many holes created by lies and deceits that made up all of his past memories with new truths. It felt strange to relish in the fresh emotions that were taking a hold of him and discover happiness there. Link moaned softly in his sleep, and The Demon could feel the warmth of the boy’s body against his metaphorical cage. He smiled; though he would never admit it out loud, he longed to see Link just as much as he did.  
  
Link wrapped the sword snugly across his back once more, as they prepared to leave. The sun had not yet risen, but a pale blue glow was beginning to show on the horizon. Link wanted to get to Lanayru before the heat of the day arrived in the desert, and he was anxious to release Girahim from the sword. His fingers fumbled with the buckles of his belt pouch, and he almost dropped his shield on his toe in his haste.  
  
“Careful, Skychild, I can’t be seen hauling you back before The Goddess-girl in pieces or it will raise awkward questions.” Girahim taunted lazily. Link shushed him. Swinging into the mess hall, he gulped down a bottle of milk and crammed a small satchel of dried nuts and berries into his pouch for later. He skipped down the great stone stairway that lead from Knight Academy three at a time and hung a right, a huge smile on his face. “You certainly are on one this morning…” Girahim drawled.  
  
“Girahim,” Link shot back, “It wouldn’t kill you to at least pretend to be excited.”  
  
“I tried that once…you can see how well it worked out for me.” He mocked bitterly. Link only laughed as he arrived at the end of the bird ramp that pointed toward Lanayru. It was a crisp, clear morning and Link could already make out the vast golden haze of the sand sea below. Readying himself, he turned over his left shoulder where the hilt of The Demon Kings sword stuck out.  
  
“Don’t try this at home.” He said boisterously. He dashed as fast as he could toward the end of the floating dock and hurled himself off the edge. The autumn breeze nipped his cheeks as he pelted toward the surface below. Girahims disdainful cries of ‘You’ve got to be JOKING’ and ‘…most uncivilized way to travel…’ buzzed over his shoulder as he smiled wider. He waited longer than usual to call for his loftwing, greatly enjoying The Demons discomfort. With a great beat of its mighty wings, the scarlet bird swooped beneath Link, catching him gently. Banking tightly, it bore them away toward the dune sea.  
Link landed cat-like upon the deck of The Sandship. Tucking his sailcloth back into his belt pouch he turned toward the stern. The ship was silent at the moment; the timeshift stone high above within the crow’s nest was dark. Link did not activate it, there was no need. Girahim remained silent within the sword as Link jogged over to the ladder leading up to the sterns deck. As he heaved himself up, an intense heat met his face. The great, golden flame of Nayru blazed within a stone brazier identical to the one in The Ancient Cistern. Once again, Link first unfastened his shield and set it aside before unknotting the old tunic that bound Demise’s sword. He looked the blade up and down, his brow furrowed worriedly.  
  
“Did it hurt you? The last time?” He murmured over the dull roar of the inferno before him.  
  
“Don’t worry about me.” Girahim deflected. “I can handle it.” Link gulped, knowing full well what this vague answer must mean. He grasped the hilt in both hands, turning the sinuous blade point down, and began to recite The Prayer of the Blade. Once more the handle burned and Link let go much quicker this time as the sword drifted closer to the flame. He stepped back, steadying his breathing as he prepared for what would happen next. Just as before, several super-charged golden fireballs sprang from within the center of the torrent and disappeared into the blade. And just as had happened previously; the milky, translucent form of Girahim drifted from the hilt of the weapon, floating gracefully above the blade. This time, The Demons body did not hang limply like that of a rag-doll. He stood erect and conscious with his head held high, his muscular arms hanging still at his sides as he stared down the great fire’s throat. Link braced himself, forcing his eyes to stay open. He looked on helplessly as a blood curdling scream rent the air around them. Girahims body twisted and contorted in pain, his hands clenching involuntarily. Even though the ordeal took merely seconds, for Link it might as well have been a lifetime. He dropped to his knees as his legs gave way beneath him, and a wave of shudders wracked his body. The sword flashed and Girahims now limp form disappeared swiftly back into it. Link raised his head, a tortured look on his face and extended his hand once again to reclaim the weapon. The sword had changed again; The metal work of the hilt was softer and more lithe, its great ruby blazed in the center. The blade itself was straight and narrow now and a handsome shade of dark steel rather than black. Link rested it upon his knees, taking a few extra moments to steady himself. He reached shaking fingers toward the old cloth that he used to wrap the blade, and felt a hand close on his shoulder. His stomach dropped out and his breath caught. He reached up with trembling fingers, laying his own hand upon the familiar, cool smoothness of The Demons skin. He whipped around gazing up into the handsome, broad smiling face of Girahim. Tears leaked out of the corners of his eyes as he leapt up with a gasp, throwing his arms around The Demon and nearly knocking him off his feet. Girahim wrapped his own blackened arms tightly around Links waist and found his lips hungrily. Link felt Girahims hands travel longingly from his waist up to his shoulders, grasping him more tightly still as though by holding him closer their bodies might simply melt into one. Links own fingers roved the elegant curves and dimples of The Demons face and ears as he kissed him fiercely. Girahim broke away, planting fervent kisses upon every inch of Links face he could reach, his long fingers tangling in his sandy hair. Link leaned his head back breathlessly as Girahims kisses traveled down his neck. The Demon suddenly hugged Link back into his chest, kissing the top of his head with a great sigh. Link nuzzled his face into the crook of his neck, breathing deeply.  
  
“My, my, Skychild…what a pair we are.” He whispered huskily into Links hair. “Tell me…do you still have that blue stone earring of mine?” Link looked avidly into Girahims eyes; they were the color of warm, dark chocolate now, no longer cold or lifeless. Without breaking his gaze, Link reached into his pocket, producing the small blue stone. Girahim smiled, his expression colored with yearning. He closed Links fist around the gem and leaned into him. He lowered his lips back to Links and flicked his tongue out, teasing. “I need you now…”  
  
“You always seem to need me for something…” Link breathed, taking Girahims lips roughly as the Demon closed his long fingers around the hero’s wrists, preparing to teleport them away.  
  
“Don’t you want that proper ‘thank-you’ I promised?” The Demon muttered against Links lips as the world around them revolved into a sea of black and gold diamonds.


	15. An Expression of Gratitude

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Smut warning!

The sandy browns and and tans of Girahims bedchamber swirled around them as they materialized back within his stronghold, deep within the desert. Links boots had barely touched the floor tiles and his hands instantly draped themselves once more around the beautiful demon before him. Girahim snaked his own arms aggressively behind Links back as the last remnants of black and gold faded from around them. Links lips claimed The Demons mouth insistently, as though he might never get enough of him. Girahims silken wave of hair fell in a curtain around their intertwined mouths. Hands tugged and pulled at the needless barriers of clothing between them. Girahim did not snap his fingers to disappear Links garments this time; preferring to slowly remove each layer teasingly. Link raised his arms over his head as Girahim tugged his undershirt up and he shed it gladly. Link unfastened The Demons heavy red cape and it fell in a red puddle to the floor. His fingers roved over his powerful chest, drifting down to where the hem of his tunic should have been, only to discover the fabric of the skin-tight garment blended straight into his breeches. He raised an eyebrow at Girahim who smiled deviously, raising his fingers. SNAP! The garments disappeared leaving him quite bare and…Link bit his bottom lip, breathing deeply…hard as a rock. Girahim pulled him in again and slid his knee between his thighs, pressing vigorously against his own twinging erection.  
  
“Aaaaackahhhhh….” Link threw his head back as Girahim thrust his hips into him. His long tongue flicked out, tracing lines into the boys neck as he gasped and moaned. Goddess help him, it was good to feel him again…to taste him again. Links hands traveled yearningly to The Demons shoulders as he raised his cool cerulean blue eyes upward. Girahim gazed longingly back as Link leaned into his chest and closed his lips in turn upon Girahims nipples, his tongue swirling playfully over his puckered flesh. The Demon drew in a sharp intake of breath, his blackened hands grasping the sides of the boys face. This was certainly a new sensation, which both surprised and excited him…He closed his eyes; his head spinning as Link continued his teasing and tasting. He thought it wonderfully strange how Link knew exactly where to touch him, even given his inexperience. The Demon slowly slid his fingers down to the waist of Links breeches and loosened the knot, plunging his hand between his legs. The boy groaned passionately into his chest, squeezing his thighs against Girahims hand. Suddenly, Link dropped to a crouch. Glancing up into The Demon’s face, he leaned in…Girahim felt an electric shock shoot up his spine as the boy closed his mouth around his stiff member. He grunted deeply, twisting his fingers in Links soft blonde tresses as his head slowly bobbed. He didn’t push the boy; he was quite well-endowed after all.  
Link ran his tongue back and forth along The Demons delicious hardness, his own erection twitching almost painfully. He smiled inwardly as he pleasured him, immensely satisfied (and a bit relieved) at the response he was getting. Girahim shuddered and pulled his face up, panting.  
  
“I’m afraid I won’t last much longer with you behaving like that.” He said breathlessly, drawing a long, deep kiss from Links moistened lips.  
“I want to feel you inside me…” He whispered huskily, brushing his soft lips across Links and licking his cheek. Links groin fluttered, and he glanced down at the pool of wetness that adorned the front of his trousers. “You certainly won’t be needing those…” Girahims fingers were at his waist again, pushing the garment down and Link stepped out of them. Placing his hands roughly against The Demons chest, he gave him a crooked half-smile as he shoved him playfully backward onto the bed. Girahim grunted as he stumbled back, propping himself on his elbows as Link descended upon him. Straddling his hips, he leaned in, placing soft kisses upon the delicate curves of Girahims ears as The Demons hand slid down, grasping both of them in his long fingers. Suddenly, the taller man slid out from underneath Link, and cupping his face for quick kiss, he rolled onto his hands and knees, arching his back and exposing the soft pucker of his opening. Link knew what to do, but his stomach clenched as he moved behind him. What if he did something wrong? He spat thickly into his hand and gently massaged the fluid over The Demons taught entrance, willing his flesh to relax. Slowly, he buried the tip of his thumb inside, and heard the other gasp lightly. Link felt pre-cum oozing from his own aching member. Removing his hand and laying it upon the small of Girahims back he pressed down upon his hips, as he was taller than Link was, and eased the head of his cock inside. ‘Fuuuuuuuuck’, he thought to himself, gasping aloud as he slid his entire length deep. Girahim moaned in front of him, grasping at the bed sheets. Goddess help him, this felt wonderful. Soooo tight…..soooo good….He blinked spots out of his vision as he began to thrust his hips slowly, reaching his hand around as Girahim had done for him and pumping his erection. But he was careening toward orgasm…too quickly. Desperately he cast his mind about for anything to distract him but it was too late. He threw his head back, crying out his elation, slamming his hips into Girahim. Panting, he flopped against The Demons back.  
  
“Fuck. Sorry…” He murmured, nuzzling his skin. He withdrew his length as Girahim turned to smile at him.  
  
“Nonsense Sky-child…” He crooned, “Now; less talk, more cock…” He whispered, positioning himself astride Links chest. Grinning lustfully, the boy grasped his shaft with one hand and closed his lips around the head, sucking gently. Girahim leaned his head back and closed his own fingers over the boy’s, urging him faster. He began to grunt, thrusting his hips as he felt the pressure build within him, threatening to scorch him to dust. At last he cried out, cumming hard into Links mouth. Delighted, he felt him swallow deeply before releasing him.  
  
“You’re welcome.” Link panted.


	16. Memories

Girahim flopped onto his back next to Link, his body tingling as he came down. He opened the covers with a smoldering smile, and the boy…no…the man next to him snuggled into his chest. He wrapped his charcoal arms around the other and drew him in close, breathing him in. He felt…at peace…for the first time in…quite possibly for the first time. The feeling was so foreign and so beautiful, his chest ached. He had dwelled for so long in darkness that the sheer invitation of this bright new world of possibilities threatened to blind him or burn him to ash. There were so many thoughts…feelings…he supposed they were, chasing themselves around in his head he thought he might burst. He wasn’t sure what to make of all of them just yet…it had been a long time. It almost frightened him to be in such unfamiliar territory. Things had been much simpler when he had been Demise’s servant; he had one objective…one emotion to occupy him. Destroy the reincarnated goddess girl and revive his master. Then, the little green sparrow fell from his nest and everything changed. His smile deepened as he gazed down at the sandy cap of hair beneath his chin.  
  
“You, know…” The Demon murmured, nuzzling his hair, “if I can expect more of these sorts of engagements in the future, you can be my master as long as you like.” Link sniggered into his chest. He said nothing more for a long moment; they simply reveled in the feel of one another.  
The Demon’s skin was cool and smooth as Link rested contentedly in his arms, his chest rising and falling gently. He reached up and drew one of Girahims blackened hands between his own, caressing his long scorched-looking fingers and massaging gentle circles into his palms. Taking a deep breath, he broke the silence.  
  
“Do you remember anything after the first time you brought me here? I know you told me you have little memory of it…you apologized for things you don’t remember having control over…I assumed Demise had gotten to you, since you seemed more invested than ever to run me through; which reminds me…” He said suddenly, a snarky smile creeping onto his lips, “I think we ought to work the sword together sometime…if the fact that you’re here is any indication of your…shall we say, failure on that point…” He released The Demons hand and threw his arms quickly over his head, laughing out loud as the other man raised his fist, growling threateningly.  
  
“Careful boy…you have a knack for getting in over your head, and I can always decide to deliver on my promise of beheading you.” He said darkly, but the corner of his mouth twitched in a crooked grin. “Besides, you said it yourself; if I had no control over my actions I can hardly be held accountable for my short-comings as a swordsman.” The Demon held his eyes meaningfully for several moments and then dropped back onto his pillows, exhaling huffily. Gingerly, Link scooted back down beside him, laying his head on Girahims muscular arm, and gazing expectantly at him. Heaving another great sigh, the other man spoke;  
  
“Your intellect is indeed keen…Once my master suspected that my dealings with you were not entirely benign, he punished me. By occupying my body with even the merest fraction of his lifeforce, he ensured that I would not wander astray again. I was able to remember parts of myself and who I was for a while at first…I could remember who you were and why it was my duty to seek you out, but nothing more intimate than that. Even those memories became more clouded and intertwined with my master’s own designs for destroying you, until the things that I did…the words that I said…even the places I went…I couldn’t recall any of it. My own free will and spirit became utterly detached from my physical form.”He trailed off, a look of grave sadness marring his perfect, pale features. “There is a wretched place…a purgatory of sorts if you ask me…where the guardians of the sword dwell indefinitely as memories. Your Fi found me there, imprisoned by my own mind.” Link gasped, his eyes widening.  
  
“Fi came to you?” He said disbelievingly, propping an elbow under him to look directly at Girahim. The Demon smiled, almost more to himself…  
…. … … …. … … …. … … ….  
  
…..”Girahim!” Fi’s voice echoed around through the vast endlessness of The Purgatory of the Guardians as she tuned about desperately.They didn’t have much time.  
The Demon looked up from where he sat, cross-legged, examining his reflection within the strange pool beneath him. A bright, musical voice called his name from deep within the penetrating darkness. He squinted his tilted eyes in the low light as the glittering purple and blue form of The Master Sword Sprite materialized in the blackness before him. He stood, not taking his eyes from her jewel-bright face.  
“He is coming…” She breathed…  
  
… … … … …. … … ….  
  
… …“I saw…” Links voice cut through, bringing him back to the present, “I saw visions…I think…of you and Fi…fighting, while I was battling Demise…but you weren’t fighting each other…I couldn’t really see, I was trying to stop that great ape from taking my head off.” He sat up, rubbing his forehead. Girahim cocked his head to the side, eyes following the gentle curve of the other mans spine, down to where his soft flesh parted upon the mattress.  
  
“Did you ever wonder how I was able to come to you, for what I had surely thought would be the last time…up there, upon the platform after you defeated The Demon King?” Girahim asked gently…  
  
… …. … …. … … …. … …  
  
…Panting, Girahim stumbled forward, unable to hold himself upright any longer…his body ached. He pushed himself up with his hands, fighting to remain conscious as the world around him spun and heaved. He gasped for breath, his arms finally giving out as he rolled onto his side. This was it. He couldn’t feel his fingers…his vision blurred…a purplish something swam before him, he tried to extend his hand, but his arms were too heavy…  
Fi smiled sadly down upon the fading form of The Demon.  
  
“You have truly surprised me, and proven your worth…” She sniffed. The sword spirit did not poses tears for she did not possess even a trace of true humanity as Girahim did, but she knew that if she had, she would have shed them gladly for the sacrifice of this noble fool. Bowing her head, she cupped her palms to the great gem within her chest, withdrawing from it a glowing orb of pale light. Kneeling gently next to the gasping demon, she brought the pulsating ball to his chest and pressed it over his heart. “Go to him…” She whispered…  
  
… …. … … … …. … … …. … …  
  
...Links eyebrows shot so far up his forehead, Girahim worried that they might become permanently fixed there, as he finished sharing the memory aloud. Link snapped his mouth shut quickly, his wide blue eyes staring disbelievingly back at The Demon. Girahim only smiled as the boy laid back upon the mattress next to him, rubbing his face as though massaging the words permanently into his brain. The sun outside had drifted beyond its peak and was sliding ever presently toward the western horizon. The afternoon was growing late. Girahim wrapped Link back in his arms and licked his ear.  
  
“We had best consider going back soon, before your little friends decide to send out a search party.” Link tilted his head back into The Demon’s shoulder, his head spinning. Fi. He knew the sword spirits had to have possessed a deeper connection but he would never have guessed this. He did miss her.  
  
They took their time rousing slowly; Link flitted back and forth, collecting his garments from where Girahim had tossed them into various corners of the room. The Demon crossed his legs, lacing his fingers behind his head and grinned wickedly as the other man blushed, dashing around for his things. Presently, they made their way out of the chamber, fully clothed again and stood blinking in the late afternoon sun outside the desert stronghold. It was little more than a tumble-down old outpost, really. Girahim spoke briefly of returning to liven it up a bit someday as Link strolled ahead of him, preparing to whistle for his loftwing.  
  
“What are you doing boy?” Girahim sauntered over to him. “Whilst I have no earthly idea how long my magic powers will remain to me, I intend to make use of them for as long as possible.” He said, grasping Links wrists. Link shook his head…of course…he had almost forgotten. He stuffed his hand back into his pocket and withdrew the small blue stone that he now never traveled without. Together, they disappeared in whirl of sand.  
Their feet touched down back in Links apartment, Girahim releasing his wrists somewhat reluctantly. The Demon wandered to his writing desk and flopped into his chair, slinging his leg lazily over one arm. He looked like a large and extremely beautiful porcelain doll. Link unbuckled his heavy shield and set it aside, and was just fumbling with the knot binding Demise’s sword to his back when a knock sounded at the door. Link started, and Girahims ears pricked with a jolt. Just as Link whipped around toward the desk, a soft twinkling told him The Demon had disappeared back into the sword.  
  
“Link, are you in there?” Zelda’s voice drifted from outside the door. His chest pounding, he strode to the door and swung it open. She didn’t wait for an invitation as she pushed into his room. This wasn’t new behavior as they had often crept into each other’s rooms at night as young knights-in-training. “I’ve been looking all over for you…Surely you haven’t forgotten about today…” He stared blankly back, giving her all the information she needed. “Oh, Link…it’s the Autumn Sky Festival this evening! I would think someone like you would be more excited to finally be able to call himself an official knight?” He scrubbed a hand across his face and through his hair with a frustrated sigh. He had completely forgotten…it was easy to get sidetracked when you had a six-and-a-half-foot tall, achingly handsome Demon breathing lustfully down your neck.  
  
“Goddess above, Zelda, I’m so sorry…I’ve been a bit…busy…” She cocked her head at him for a moment and then comprehension spread on her face as her eyes flickered to the violet hilt of The Demon Kings sword still sticking up over his shoulder.  
  
“That’s where you’ve been…” She whispered, circling around behind him to admire the sword. “You’ve been to one of the flames.” She strode back around to face him, a look of astonished excitement on her face.  
  
“We traveled to Naryu’s flame this morning.” He replied, shuffling his feet.  
  
“We?” She emphasized, her eyes widening. Link sighed and turned his head over his shoulder;  
  
“Perhaps now is a good time to offer your apologies to The Goddess as well.” He called gently. No answer. “What’s the matter? Remlit got your tongue Girahim? Come on, don’t make me use the ‘I’m your master’ card.” Link sighed irritably. A soft twinkling sound announced the appearance of The Sword Spirit somewhere behind him. Zeldas eyes grew wider still, and her mouth dropped open.  
  
“That deadfish look is not very becoming of a goddess-in-training.” The Demon drawled lazily over Links shoulder. Zeldas jaw shut with a snap and she scowled back. In a flash, Links elbow shot behind him, catching Girahim in the ribs and he doubled over with a grunt. Zelda stifled a snigger into her palm. “Joking, merely joking…” He breathed sulkily as Link turned to glower at him. Girahim adjusted his red mantle with a jerk and stepped forward. “My apologies, your highness…” He flourished his cape in a flamboyant bow. “Now, might we start by putting that bit of debauchery back at The Sealed Grounds behind us? Surely a reverant being of your position can find it in her heart to forgive a lowly coward like myself?” Link rolled his eyes…pompous fool. Thankfully, Zelda was no stranger to bullies. The top of her head may have only just drawn level with his chest, but she stepped right up to The Demon, glaring up into his pale face.  
  
“Did you know, that in the many memories The Goddess has granted me about my past, you also appear in several of them?”  
  
“Well, consider me highly flattered…” Girahim replied with a toss of his head. Zelda pressed on as if she hadn’t heard him;  
  
“They’ve given me enough information to know that you are by all accounts, an insufferable, arrogant ass who suffers with a perpetual immaturity.”  
  
“So far, so good…” Girahim muttered with a wicked smile, leaning right down to leer into her face. Link reached out and took his arm;  
  
“Are you quite finished??” He spat, a look of utter disbelief on his face. This relationship was going to need some work. Girahim puffed out a vexed sigh and straightened. Zelda continued to frown warily at him. With a meaningful look from Link, The Demon slowly extended his scorched hand toward Zelda. Her breath caught and she swallowed quickly before accepting it with her own. “There, now, we can play nicely.” Link said stiffly.  
  
“Don’t push your luck boy.” Girahim uttered darkly, striding back over his desk chair and collapsing back into it. Zelda watched him for a long moment before turning back to Link with a look that said quite clearly, ‘you’ve got to be joking’.  
  
“Anyway…” She continued, “I merely wanted to find you to tell you that the invocation ceremony starts at dusk, the parade and lights will follow, and then the feast. You’d better get ready…that is if you do still intend to become a knight…” she said with a definite note of bitterness. Girahim had really gotten under her skin. He had a knack for that. Her pink and white skirts whirling, she turned on her heel and strode out of the room. Girahim watched her storm out, twirling a lock of his hair. Link tuned on him, scowling darkly.  
  
“Would a little humility kill you?” He asked half-heartedly, dropping on the bed opposite The Demon. Girahims eyes flashed and he laced his hands behind his head again.  
  
“I do apologize, master, perhaps I got a tad carried away.” He replied softly with a half-smile. “I’m working on it, all right?” He stood and walked over to where Link sat and nestled himself behind him, resting his chin on his shoulder and massaging his thighs. “Let’s get you ready to be a knight then, shall we?” He licked Links ear.  
  
The Next Morning…  
  
Links eyes fluttered open groggily; the ray of morning light shining through his window exacerbating the pounding headache that had awoken him in the first place. With a groan, he turned away from the penetrating beam, tugging his pillow over his head and snuggled deeper into the cool embrace of the man next to him. Why had he had so much to drink last night? Girahims arm tightened around him, but he did not stir. They would both need to rise soon and make their way to Eldin, and the Fire Sanctuary where the last Sacred Flame of Din resided. Even though The Demon was able to separate from the sword now, he still tired easily and only joined Link physically for short intervals. He had remained within the sword for the entirety of the celebrations last night, but Link had carried the weapon and his shield throughout the evening. As the other knights-to-be all carried Eagus’ practice swords, this prompted a string of inquisitions from his fellow classmates, but Link deflected them easily with the same story he had told Zelda when she had first asked about The Demon Kings blade; that it had been gifted to him by The Mogmas. Now that the sword wasn’t quite so evil looking, this explanation quelled most of his fellow students’ questions easily enough. Girahim had remained mostly silent during the festivities, reserving his snide comments for the few moments that Link and/or Zelda happened to be out of earshot of the others. But he had privately congratulated him later that evening after they had retired to his apartment well after midnight, as the carnival continued to rage in the streets below…  
  
… … …. … …. … …  
  
…“You certainly have done well for yourself, Sky-child.” He smiled as Link stumbled against the writing desk, his head swimming with ale. “Though it appears I may have spoken too soon…” He raised an amused eyebrow at Link as he turned, grinning stupidly and attempted a deep bow that nearly sent him head-first into his carpets.  
“Master Link, knight’ve Skyloft…at yer service…” He slurred, stepping forward and tripping over his own boots. The Demon threw out his arms with a hiss and caught his elbows, lifting him easily and setting him upon the mattress…  
  
… … …. … …. … …  
  
…He didn’t remember much after that, but somewhere along the way, he had been relieved of his clothing and equipment. He tried to take a few slow breaths, willing his insides to stop churning.  
Girahims eyes flicked open as the other man stirred fitfully. The corners of his mouth curved in an impudent grin. He was undoubtedly feeling the repercussions of the previous night’s endeavors rather painfully. He reached over and tugged the pillow off of his face, to a string of protests.  
  
“Enjoy ourselves a bit too much, have we?” He whispered coquettishly. Link folded his arms over his eyes and groaned. “You were quite a sloppy little mess last night.” He continued, twirling a lock of Links hair in his long fingers. “We should probably make ready to leave soon, if you think you can stand without assistance.”  
With a great sigh, Link rubbed his eyes and pushed himself up on his elbows, his head spinning as the room heaved unpleasantly. Girahim chuckled scathingly next to him. Squeezing his eyes shut and trying to breathe deeply, he swung his legs over the side of the bed, his stomach turning.  
  
“What’s the matter little sparrow?” Girahim simpered, “You’re awfully quiet…”  
His jeering laughter followed Link as he suddenly clapped a hand over his mouth, leaping up and bolting out of the room and down the hall toward the toilet.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay Ghirahim is seriously Jared....y'know...like 'Labyrinth' Jared....


	17. A Sword Renewed

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> (See sister work 'An Unlikely Competition') for a slightly kinkier take on this part, or keep reading here for innuendos and hints but no actual actions...not many anyway...

Link had never been more grateful in his life that he didn’t have to fly to Eldin. The Demon had continued his taunts and prods about his hangover throughout his preparations. He had dashed for the bathroom two more times, to howls of laughter; his tunic clung to his clammy skin, and his sword and shield felt as though they weighed a hundred pounds. Glancing at himself in his wardrobe mirror, his face was still pale and almost as green as his tunic…  
  
“You look positively ghastly…” Girahim snorted, looming over his shoulder. Link aimed a swipe at him.  
  
“C’mon, let’s get this over*hick*with…” He said, pressing his lips and eyes tightly together as he pulled the blue sapphire earring once more out of his pocket. Still chuckling, Girahim took his wrists and they were whisked away in a whirl of black and gold.  
  
An immense heat wave bore over them as their feet hit the ground within the Fire Sanctuary. If it hadn’t been for Dins gift of protective earrings, Link didn’t think he would’ve been able to bear the swelter. His stomach growled uncomfortably and he willed himself not to lose his guts again. He slowly opened his eyes, and did a double take as the great fire of Din’s Flame towered before him. He had fully expected a painstaking jaunt through the temple. He glanced back at Girahim who had his arms crossed and crooked smile on his face.  
  
“You see? I can be reasonable…you didn’t think I was going to let your pathetic little sack of bones drag us all the way through the temple, did you? As fun as watching you struggle would indeed have been…” He cocked his hips to the side, his smile deepening. “…I figured you had better save your breath for the recitation of that lovely little incantation we’re going to be needing. Now, whenever you’re ready, although you may want to take your time; The Spirit of Din will likely not be amused if you were to hurl sick all over mid-prayer.”  
Link scowled as a wave of nausea did indeed overwhelm him and he sank cross-legged to the floor, rummaging in his pouches and withdrawing a small bottle of water. He also unbuckled his shield and set it aside, as well as the Demon Kings Sword. This was it…the last flame. Girahim also dropped to a seat next to him, continuing to survey his ashen face with a self-satisfied grin. When Link finally felt like he could string more than three words together without his head or his stomach turning, he raised his eyes to the great surging inferno before them and spoke;  
  
“Are you afraid? I mean…I know we don’t really know what will happen after this, but…are you afraid of losing your powers?” Link whispered hoarsely; his voice had been somewhat reluctant all morning. Girahim considered him for a moment before replying;  
  
“My dear Link, if riding around on the back of that ridiculous, over-grown turkey is the worst punishment I receive for no longer being able to use magic, I will take it in stride.” Link barked a laugh that made his head pound. “We’ll just have to monitor your ale consumption more closely, won’t we?” Tears of mirth welled in Links eyes as he fought to swallow the gulp of water he had just took. Girahim chuckled and stood, offering his blackened hand to him. Tucking his bottle away, Link grasped his wrist as he was heaved up off of the enameled floor. Breathing deeply, the pair strode hand-in-hand toward the huge fire; the great broadsword hanging in Links right fist. Girahim paused and turned to the other, several paces back and nodded, relinquishing his grip on Links fingers. Link watched apprehensively as The Demon strode solemnly forward, coming to a halt just in front of the massive blaze. Link opened his mouth and began to recite The Prayer of the Blade, holding the great weapon aloft. Once again, the hilt of the sword warmed in his hand, but it did not burn his fingers like before. Blinking in confusion, he stared at the hilt, but his thoughts did not get far as the great flame boiled and churned before Girahim.  
  
“Steady your sword, Master.” The Demon said simply, tilting his head back as four large fireballs bloomed from the center of the inferno and surged toward Girahim, enveloping him in red flames. Link looked on, transfixed, as the great ball of red light began to ricochet off the walls, just as it had when Fi had been with him. With a great crackle, the blaze came to rest in front of Link; he knew what to do. Raising the sword with his right hand and steadying the blade in his left, he held the weapon ready in front of him. Several smaller balls of flame broke away and rocketed into the blade, making Link feel as though he were being pushed backward. He squinted his eyes against the intense heat and light. As he felt the energy of the transmission subside, he opened his eyes wider; Girahim stumbled before him, panting, and collapsed onto the floor tiles.  
  
“Girahim!” Link cried, closing the short distance between them. He rolled The Demon onto his back, and laid his beautiful head in his lap. “Are you alright?” He breathed worriedly. He did not seem outwardly changed, but something about the last flame had affected him.  
  
“Relax, my dear Sky-child, I am just very tired…” He trailed off, breathing deeply. “This final cleanse has banished Demise’s power completely from the sword, but the process has weakened me greatly, much as it pains me to admit.” A small smile returned to Links lips as he bent to kiss The Demons cool forehead.  
  
“What can I do?” He asked, stroking his silken white strands.  
  
“I should return to the sword…and rest for a while…” Girahim breathed, his chocolate eyes taking in the other man’s tearful aquamarine ones and his worry-creased brow. “I’ll be alright.” He re-assured him once more, taking one of his hands in his own and squeezing it gently. Link let out a long breath and nodded. With a light twinkle, The Demons body disappeared back into the sword. Link fought the urge to call out to him as he wrapped the blade back into his old tunic and strapped it, along with his shield back upon his shoulders. He didn’t even entertain the idea of asking him if could even still use magic as he jogged the long way out of the Fire Sanctuary and into the smoky daylight outside of the temple.  
  
Later…  
  
His head still felt as though it had been stuffed full of cotton, as Link trudged down the hall of Knight Academy to his room. Girahim had not stirred or spoken in the time it had taken him to make it back through the Fire Sanctuary and back to Skyloft. He likely felt just as miserable as Link did now…’serves him right, really’…he thought half-heartedly to himself, The Demons taunts ringing in his ears. He opened the door to his room and un-dressed for a much-needed nap, setting the fully restored blade upon the bed and snuggling up to it. He ran his fingers over the handsome hilt, no longer cruel or menacing. It was no longer Demise’s sword really…it was his. Girahim was his. With that comforting thought his eyelids grew heavy and he drifted into a deep and dreamless sleep.  
  
“Ngh! Ack! Ngh!....”  
  
Links eyelids shot open, and he sat bolt upright, feeling first for the sword at his side. Then, he blew out a slow breath, his eyes rolling as he sagged back into his pillows. Evening had fallen, and the noise was drifting through the thin wall that separated his room from Fledge’s. The idiot was working out late again. At least, Link hoped he was working out…  
  
“I swear to Hylia, if I wasn’t stuck in this prison, I would go over there right now and give that deplorable bag of flesh something to moan and groan about!” Girahim’s aggravated whisper drifted from under the cotton cloth that still protected the blade. Links heart skipped as his head whipped around.  
  
“Well, look who’s awake…” He murmured, a broad smile splitting his face.  
  
“I’m not sure how you get any rest through that racket. And to think, you actually encouraged this behavior…” The Demon fumed.  
  
“I’m feeling better as well, thank you for asking.” Link replied; a low hiss issued from the hilt.  
  
“…You know…now that we’re awake, we could have a little fun of our own…” Link could almost hear the wheels and cogs turning in the other mans foul little mind. While this usually meant nothing good, he decided to play the devil’s advocate anyway;  
  
“We both know you’ll tell me whether I inquire or not, so fire away…”  
  
“Good boy…” The hilt hummed as a throaty chuckle emanated from deep within. “Now I say ‘we’ but as I am still not in a fit position to leave the sword, that makes you the star of the show…” ‘Wonderful’, Link thought, but his groin twitched expectantly all the same.  
  
“Touch yourself. I know from personal experience that you can moan loudly enough to drown out the unholy squawking of that freak of nature.” His oily voice was dead serious.  
Link froze where he lay; he didn’t know what he had been expecting to hear, but it wasn’t that. Even more annoyingly, his crotch stirred, very interested to know the plot of this so-called ‘show’ despite what Link thought.  
  
“I’m not—“  
  
“Surely you know how?”  
  
“Of course I do!”  
  
“So what’s the harm in a little battle of noise-making?” The Demon practically simpered in his ear, “I promise to help you…” He wheedled further, and unbidden, Links cock strained against his cotton undershorts; his eyes closed, his lips parted, and his hand drifted between his legs.  
  
“I can practically hear your arousal from here…” The Demon crooned...Fuck.  
  
Sometime later Link awoke again on his side; a cool, charred arm looped around his middle. Without turning, he stroked The Demons soft, blackened skin. The other man drew breath softly against the back of his neck, making his skin quiver. He was glad Girahim was feeling well enough to join him; the most important process of his journey to freedom still lay before them. Link still needed to make his prayer to the Triforce. He would need Zelda’s help, of that he was now certain. But something else weighed on his mind; how could he be sure this was what Girahim wanted? As their relationship now stood, he was still technically the sword’s master but The Demon was free to come and go as he pleased now, and Link hoped he knew that he would never force him to do anything. How you could force a six-and-a-half-foot demon sword-spirit to do anything he didn’t want to do, Link could only guess at. It didn’t stop his head from spinning. They had been moving awfully fast. Link could shore himself up with all the excuses he wanted about saving Girahims life by taking him to the Sacred Flames but the truth was, it wasn’t as altruistic as all of that. Didn’t it stand to reason that Link had saved him because…he needed him? Where did that leave Girahim? What did he need? What did he want? Link breathed a self-loathing sigh; he was being selfish. It was unintentional, but it was there all the same.  
  
“If your brain were running any harder, I believe smoke would be issuing from your ears.” Girahim muttered into the back of his head, tongue lashing out to flick his ear. Link smiled in spite of himself as Girahim propped his head in his hand and stroked the side of Links face with the other. “What’s eating you my little hero?...It’s not me…yet…” He teased, planting kisses upon Links bare shoulder. Link took a deep breath;  
  
“It’s just…” He struggled to find the right words, “you’ve been following me…”  
  
“Hm, don’t tell me now that I’ve got it all wrong about you…” He continued his line of kisses up Links ear.  
  
“No, I don’t mean it like that, it’s just…you’ve been content to simply follow me all this time…you’ve barely questioned any of it. You can tell me all you like about how it was your only option for life, but…” He rolled onto his back, looking Girahim in the face, “…Even now, you know what the next step is and you haven’t raised a finger in protest.” The Demon looked at him quizzically. “Are you sure that…” Link puffed another great sigh, “…sure this is what you want?” Girahim considered him further before replying;  
  
“No one has ever asked me before what I want.” He replied evenly, twirling a long black finger in Links hair. “If there’s one thing a lonely, tortured soul like myself has had no shortage of, it’s time to think. I’ve given a lot of thought to what it would be like to be free, Link, and I would make the choice again and again with or without you by my side…but I am much happier knowing that you are here.” The boy positively beamed. “Is that what you’re so worried about? The fact that you might haul me before the Triforce to free me only to see me lose my nerve and prance off without you?” The silly thing blushed scarlet from nose to navel. Without another word, Girahim swooped down, claiming his mouth in a long, deep kiss. “Besides, Sky-child, what would I do without that delicious little rear of yours?” Before Link could answer, he felt The Demon growing hard against him, his touches growing more insistent.  
  
“Your voracious appetites will have me squandering every last rupee on stamina potions for one…” He mumbled thickly against Girahims lips.  
  
Much Later…  
  
Link strode up the stairs of Knight Academy, heading in the direction of Zelda’s room, the great broadsword that housed Girahim laced to his back. He really did need to inquire with Gondo about a proper sheath already. He knocked softly on the door and waited a few moments, bouncing idly on his heels.  
  
“Welp, no one’s home, better luck next time!” Girahim trilled from within the sword.  
  
“For once in your life, guard your tongue!” Link hissed back, striding instead to the next set of huge, carved wooden doors to the right that led into Headmaster Gaepora’s office. He rapped the brass door-knocker smartly.  
  
“Come in.” Called a voice from within. Link pushed hard on the doors and backed into the room.  
  
“Good afternoon, headmaster, I was just looking for Z—“ The words slipped into thin air as Zelda turned from the great stone hearth at the end of the room, regarding him with a smile.  
  
“Hello, Link. I’ve been wondering when you would finally wake up long enough to come see me again.” He shuffled his feet a bit uncomfortably. He wasn’t sure how much he was ready to reveal to Zelda’s father yet. “The Fire Sanctuary wasn’t too strenuous for you I hope?” She continued sweetly. His eyes flitted from her face to the headmasters and back. “Oh unclench Link, I’ve told father everything already.” Headmaster Gaepora chuckled lightly at the open-mouthed look of astonishment on Links face. Perhaps it actually was better this way, he relinquished, shutting his mouth. “May I see the sword?” She asked uncertainly. He un-knotted the fabric and laid it upon the large, scrubbed wooden desk in the center of the room, gently un-rolling the handsome steel blade. He watched as Zelda carefully closed both of her hands around the smooth, sinuous hilt, drawing the weapon into a ready position. The sword was quite large, almost as tall as she was, and her hands appeared child-like on the large violet hilt. “It’s truly beautiful Link. You’ve done very well. You both have.” She added quickly as the ruby setting glinted menacingly. “Won’t you come out and honor us with your presence Girahim?” She asked in a honeyed voice. Silence. Links eyes narrowed, but Zelda stood her ground. “Oh, very well…Lord Girahim…” Link sniggered as The Demon soared in a wide arc from the sword and swept a great, flourishing bow before her.  
  
“Your highness,” he said with a mocking reverence. Zelda cocked an eyebrow at him.  
‘Please Goddess, let him guard his tongue’ Link thought fervently to himself.  
  
“Girahim, this is my father, Headmaster Gaepora.” Zelda continued carefully. The Demon turned, inclining his head again.  
  
“Charmed.” He said levelly. Link realized he had been holding his breath and exhaled slowly. How much had she told Gaepora? Before he could give further thought to this question, Zelda spoke again;  
  
“Link will be making a prayer to the Triforce soon, father…it’s the only way to fully break Demise’s spell on Girahim and set him free.” It was inherently clear by the headmaster’s furrowed brow that setting The Demon Lord who had once tried to feed his daughter to a mad king free was the last thought he wished to entertain in all the world.  
  
“And just what is your role in all of this, demon?” The headmaster grated, taking a step toward Girahim, who puffed out his chest defensively.  
‘For the love of Hylia, hold your temper, Girahim’ Link squeezed his eyes shut.  
  
“Now, now, your headmastership, don’t be angry…You see, the little goddess and I have no hard feelings anymore…” He turned and in one swift motion, slid his hands under Zelda’s arms and twirled her in a great circle before returning her softly to the red carpet. He hissed, grasping his shoulder as her fist made contact. Headmaster Gaepora chuckled richly.  
  
“If half the things Zelda tells me about you are true…hmph…never mind that I suppose…Only time will tell, Demon. Until then, I withhold my judgement on you. It is clear in any event that my daughter is plenty capable of looking out for herself now.” He smiled warmly at Zelda who returned it. Girahim scowled darkly, his dignity shattered. “Who knows,” the Headmaster continued, clasping his wrists behind him and striding to the window, “My daughter and a certain special hero may be exchanging more than just vows of knighthood soon…” The effect of this simple sentence was incredible: Girahim whipped around to glare daggers at both Link and Zelda, who were both growing redder and redder in the face, fists crammed in their mouths to stifle their sniggers. Oblivious, Headmaster Gaepora continued to gaze out of the window. Link knew further explanations were warranted, but they would come later.


	18. A Fervent Prayer

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> In the words of Porky Pig: P-p-p-pde-pde-pde-pdepthat's ALL FOLKS!  
> Thanks to anyone who's read/reading this! Also, while this is technically the end, 'Ch.19' is a neat little epilogue. Stay healthy everyone!  
> (Cue end title song: 'Long Way Down' by Robert DeLong)….totally Ghirahim's theme song

Link leaned into The Demon's chest as they both stared silently up at the stars. The other held him tighter, sinking them deeper into the warm water of The Earth Spring. They were heading to The Temple of Hylia to meet Zelda in the morning, having finally broken away from Headmaster Gaepora long enough to formulate a clear plan of action. They could have just as easily gone earlier today; Link couldn’t explain why he stalled, but Girahim didn’t question him and so the question itself remained answerless. It was like the calm before the storm; they stood upon the brink of something so much greater now. It was exciting and terrifying all at the same time. And so they had ended up here. A small fire blazed happily off to the side of the spring, and every so often they took turns stepping out to feed the hungry blaze. Much to Link and Girahims astonishment, The Demon still retained his magic powers; a small consolation prize, as he had put it, for suffering so much devastating pain. Link had rolled his eyes. Despite this, he took his turn wading out of the hot spring to throw a log on the fire, when they both knew perfectly well he could have easily stoked it into a raging inferno from where he sat if he’d wanted to. Link wasn’t complaining; the view was sublime. Smirking back at him, Girahim swaggered back toward the pool, rolling his hips dramatically and gliding his inky arms over his own smooth skin with a sultry look in his eye. Link smirked affectionately, lacing his fingers behind his head as The Demon continued his exotic dance. With a twirl, he turned his back to Link, arching forward, one hand tracing down his leg and the other reaching between his perfectly sculpted thighs. He gave Link the middle finger, tossing his head over his shoulder and licking his lips with that wonderfully serpentine tongue. Link threw his head back and laughed, clapping appreciatively. With a mutual chuckle, The Demon splashed back into the water and drew Link into him again.  
  
“Girahim…” He said softly, finally speaking the first word of the evening, which was saying a lot because the other man was notoriously difficult to silence most of the time… But Link could tell the weight of their final task also weighed heavily on The Demons mind. “Do you know I wouldn’t have you any other way?” If this information surprised Girahim, he gave no sign. He traced a long line across the back of Links neck with his tongue.  
  
“Nor I you, my Skychild…nor I you…”  
  
The Next Morning…  
  
A soft breeze ruffled the crown of Links sandy hair, a whisp of cool air sneaking under the blankets and chilling him awake. His breath caught as he drew the heavy wool more tightly around him, his arm reaching out…Grasping at nothing but emptiness, he twisted his head around searching for The Demon. He was nowhere to be found. A small bubble of panic bloomed unpleasantly in Links chest as he pushed up on his elbows, the generally warm air of the land of Eldin turned uncharacteristically cool with the addition of the wind.  
  
“Morning!” The perpetually sarcastic voice of Girahim said brightly in his ear as he felt the weight of The Demons body alight upon his back. “We’ve got a busy day ahead, my little hero so I’ve taken the unique pleasure of fixing you up a little something special!” He was certainly in a good mood; hopefully the feeling lasted. He felt the pressure change again as Girahim left him, strolling to the doorway of the abandoned Bokoblin hut and gesturing outward. Links eyes narrowed as he peered out at the re-kindled fire from last night. Despite the wind, the blaze remained calm…and smokeless…Links eyes rolled up, locking on to The Demons. He only winked and strolled out. Link sat all the way up, rubbing sleep from his eyes and combing his fingers through his sticky, touseled hair. They had made love again last night, right up against the feet of The Goddess statue. Links cheeks colored. If his desperate moans hadn’t been an ardent enough prayer for Girahims salvation, he wasn’t sure what was. Smiling embarrassedly, he set about pulling on his clothes and buckling himself together, strapping their bedroll around his waist.  
  
Link understood at once what had occupied The Demon all morning, as he stepped outside; two plates piled with an assortment of delicious looking foods that Link had never even seen before steamed temptingly behind the leeward side of a large boulder that had not been there last night. Link caught Girahims eye with a raised eyebrow, finding himself indeed grateful that The Demon’s ability to do magic had not faded.  
  
“There isn’t fried Mogma in there anywhere, is there?” He asked, suddenly wary.  
  
“Absolutely not! Mogma is much too gamey and tough…” The Demon chortled as he settled himself down to eat. A strange thought occurred to Link then that had him wondering why he had never asked before…  
  
“Do you…need to eat?” He asked awkwardly, seating himself cross-legged next to a smaller rock where his breakfast sat. The occasional breeze filled Links nostrils with mouth-watering smells.  
  
“Traditionally, no…” He produced, around a mouthful of what looked like some kind of mushroom. “However the urge to do so has been growing in my mind for a while now. It does feel good to partake again! Such flavor! Such complexity! Such stunning texture!” He swallowed satisfactorily. Link rolled his eyes, grinning at this purely simple, rather domestic affair. For some reason he couldn’t quite explain, it gave him peace.  
  
Blinking in the soft, filtered sunlight of Faron Woods, Link and Girahim looked on into the courtyard of The Temple of Hylia, squinting for a trace of Zelda. The birds chirped, and a soft breeze rustled the trees but there was no sign of her.  
  
“I think we had better go inside, Link.” Girahim said softly, but with more confidence than he felt. No, that was a poor way to show respect or gratitude toward the man who had saved his life. He had all the confidence in the world in him. He did. They proceeded inside the temple, their breath barely making a sound in the overwhelming stillness of the cavernous front room. There, standing before the great statue herself, stood Zelda. She turned slowly toward them, and Links jaw dropped to the red runner beneath them. She was garbed in a rather astonishing red velvet dress, Girahim conceded to himself. Thread of gold embroidery snaked in an almost life-like pattern along the hem of her skirts and over the tight bodice, which hugged her rather beautifully. The low-cut neckline exposed the merest hint of cleavage, and billowing sleeves of creamy silk cascaded in perfect elegance over her slender arms. She was the absolute embodiment of a goddess-queen. Girahim coughed loudly, glaring at the man next to him;  
  
“Has the royal little nymph struck you straight as well as dumb?” He tittered in an undertone, dripping with sarcasm. Link snapped his mouth shut, shaking himself and flicked the end of Girahims ear painfully. Before The Demon could react, Link jogged up the short flight of stairs to the Giant statue of The Goddess, and the real goddess before him and pulled her into a tight embrace. “How wonderfully sentimental…”Girahim drawled, but a hint of a smile tweaked the corners of his lips.  
  
“Are you ready?” She asked in that angelic voice. Breaking the embrace, she moved to the right, gesturing toward a large stone pedestal. She smiled broadly at him, but Link could see tears welling in her eyes. He gazed back at her, their souls connecting for the briefest moment. “Girahim?” She lifted her eyes to The Demon. Bowing, with a hand over his heart, he disappeared into the sword, quite possibly for the last time. Zelda took Links shoulders and guided him directly underneath The Goddess statues clasped hands. She herself strode around to the opposite side of the pedestal to face him, and took both of his hands in hers. Blinking, Link started at the warmth spreading in his left hand. Without letting go of Zeldas fingers, he twisted his wrist to look as the brilliant gold mark of the Triforce upon the back of his hand throbbed and pulsed. The warmth spread from his hand down into his arm, into his chest and down through the soles of his boots, filling him up. Across from him, Zelda closed her eyes and tilted her head back. “Make your prayer, Link”  
  
Flicker. He was dancing the sword with Girahim for the first time in The Forest Temple, trying to shrug off the way he looked him up and down. Flash. Zeldas golden apparition cupped his chin, whispering comforts to him. Flicker. Girahims fingers tangled in the front of his tunic as he kissed him fervently in the hallway of The Earth Temple. Flash. Fi’s expressionless face radiated the only form of a smile she could. Flicker. Granny reached for his arm, a kind smile on her face. FLASH. Groose nodded approvingly at him. FLICKER. The Gate of Time ticked. FLASH. Impa. FLICKER. Skyloft. FLASH. Zelda. FLICKER. Girahim.  
  
“Remove your sword, Chosen Hero of The Goddess…plunge it into the pedestal before you, and receive my mercy. May the forces of Wisdom, Courage, and Power grace you with the strength to fulfill your task, and take solace in your destiny.” Zelda intoned.  
His hands trembling, Link drew his right hand over his shoulder and pulled the sword, and the very soul of the man he desperately loved from its beautiful new sheath. Drawing a shaking breath, he plunged the blade seamlessly into the polished stone before him, and all was drowned in a blinding flash of golden light.


	19. Epilogue

“Batreaux, remind me again how many gratitude crystals it took to turn you into a human?” Link asked nonchalantly, gazing over the rim of his teacup at the demon-turned-man across the table from him.  
  
“Uhm, yes, I believe eighty was the magic number…in a manner of speaking!” Chuckled Batreaux, sipping his own tea thoughtfully. “Why do you ask, Master Link?” He asked coyly, although he believed he already knew the answer, if the knot of suspicion in his chest was any indication.  
  
“Let’s just say it’s a bit awkward putting on a normal life with someone you know to be immortal.” Link took another swig of tea…  
  
… … …. … … …. … … ….  
  
…”I’d have thought it would have been painstakingly obvious considering Demise’s first rise to power happened, oh I don’t know, LIKE A HUNDRED YEARS AGO?!” Girahim threw his hands in the air, flabbergasted that he was having to explain such a sorely conspicuous trait like this. “I don’t know, I suppose I thought it would simply have disappeared with all of the rest of the abilities that Demise granted me at my forging.” He shrugged as Link continued to glower at him from the base of the shady tree that they had been all too previously snogging and giggling under.  
  
“For all I know, you could have been cast into another deep, undisturbed sleep in that loony bin of a purgatory you’re always prattling on about…” Link retorted, his scowl deepening.  
  
“Ohforfuckssake…” The other exhaled disbelieving, turning away toward the lake and planting his fists on his hips.”It’s not like it’s something I asked for…” He shot back suddenly, whipping back around and offering a hateful glare of his own. “Pssshhhhh….” He waved an impatient hand toward Link, turning his attention back to Lake Floria.  
  
“How do you even know…that you’re…”  
  
“IMMORTAL?” Girahim spat viciously. When the boy didn’t say anything, he exhaled deeply and turned back toward the tree. Flopping back down next to Link, he plucked a flower from just behind the other, leaning close into him as he reached for it. The Demons eyes locked onto his and he licked his chin as he withdrew the little pink bud. “Look at this flower, Link…What do you see?”  
  
“I see the stupid, pink wreath of the silly things you made yesterday and forced me to dance around in.” Link muttered darkly.  
  
“Forced? I’m truly offended Sky-child, I would never force you to do anything!” He feigned innocence.  
  
“Threatening me with my clothes hidden in Headmaster Gaeporas office is as close to ‘forcing’ as literally drawing your sword.” The Demon laughed wickedly.  
  
“Very well, as you say my dear…but in all seriousness…when I look at this flower, I simply see another flower; another moment in time. I don’t spare a thought for its passing, I didn’t second guess myself even as my fingers reached for it only moments ago, severing it from its life force in a mere blink of an eye. But when I see you, my little hero…when I see the way you yearn for the lost beauty of a season past, or weep at the loss of a loved one, or cringe at the sound of a fallen tree…it makes me ache inside. The thing that scares me more than anything else…” His voice dropped into a barely-audible whisper that Link strained his long ears to hear, leaning close. “…is the day that will surely come to take you away as well…to a place where I cannot follow…” He threw the expired blossom to the ground and squeezed Links hands in his permanently blackened ones, tears threatening his eyes. Link didn’t know what to say as he leaned his forehead against Girahims, lost in his philosophical thoughts…  
  
… … …. … … …. … … ….  
  
“Yes,” Sniffed Batreaux a bit regretfully. “Unfortunately, being neither a demon, nor a powerful being of magic Master Link, I’m afraid I cannot help you in an errand to obtain immortality—“He began but Link cut in;  
  
“No, no, Bats you misunderstand me. Girahim would like to become human…again…” Link added, forgetting momentarily that his demon had indeed once been a simple inhabitant of the surface world, much like himself.  
  
“Ohhh! Uhhh…” Batreaux nearly dropped his tea in his excitement. “I-I see. Well, Master Link I know it took quite a lot of gratitude crystals to turn me…” This didn’t faze Link in the slightest. He would clean Pipit’s mother’s house until the cuckoos came home to obtain however many crystals it would take. He brought his focus back to the conversation at hand as Batreaux continued. “You see, Master Link what I’m trying to say is; Master Girahim isn’t what the other demons would deem pure-born. In fact, my former kind would refer to his type colloquially as a ‘turned one’; that is to say, a man who has been turned by a great and powerful magic force, as opposed to being simply born into being… I wonder what that makes me then…?” He trailed off thoughtfully, but Link was smiling. He leaned across the table;  
  
“Batreaux, are you saying it would be easier to turn Girahim back then?”  
  
“Well, yes! That is, I believe so Master Link…you see, there is another method…a simpler method that I myself got wind of and tried first, but I eventually discovered that the Cursed Medal simply wasn’t powerful enough for me to—“  
  
The Cursed Medal. OF COURSE.  
  
“Bats…” Link said softly, quelling him to silence, “Can you show me?”

THE END

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> There is now a lovely little One-shot expansion of this Epilogue story because it was just too cute not to flesh out a bit. So if you want more, head over to "Hope for a Turned One" and as always, preese leave meh comments!


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